Accidentally
by Sekana Katayama
Summary: AU: Prince Marth goes into hiding as a student of Tamaki Academy, a completely normal high school in a completely normal district of Japan. Complications arise. ::Yaoi::
1. Prologue

**Accidentally**

**Prologue**

A girl with hair as blue as the ocean, cut short and boyishly. But still a girl, despite that. Still a girl because no male could take such good care of those azure locks that they shined in the faint morning light. Her eyes matched her hair for brilliance, that same blue with barely noticeable flecks of grey.

She walked with a suggested care that seemed unreasonable, as if choosing every step as she went on. Her slender legs, visible from where her knee-length grey pleated skirt stopped, were ivory and smooth, the sort of legs that always drew eyes to them, like moths to the flame. She was slender, too, and seen from the side she appeared as a young boy, thin in every aspect and without a noticeable chest, which was veiled by the rather large scarf of her grey sailor collar, tied in the front.

It was the same uniform every girl at Tamaki Academy wore, but this girl made it seem abnormally beautiful, the puffy sleeves, the way her white shirt billowed around her at its hem, responding to the light breeze. And she was wearing a matching grey headband, which remedied the boyishness that the short cut lent to her hair.

In every sense she was royalty, trapped in a world of contrast within her new high school.

* * *

Marth drifted through the crowds apprehensively, taking care to ensure that his skirt never took too much of a liking to the wind, however weak a breeze there was today. He was a first-year student this year, attending Tamaki Academy because it was the most overlooked and normal school in the area. His entire, overly-complicated situation arose from the fact that he was in hiding, the prince of a certain country he would rather not mention at the moment, mainly because he was trying to focus on walking like a girl.

This, of course, was the reason he picked his steps patiently. He had always been somewhat delicate in bearing, and so the task was not as problematic as it could have been, but it was still a matter that took his attention, and vital to his survival. After all, he didn't want to advertise his presence, since the entire objective of his masquerade was to blend in with the populace and appear as a normal girl, attending a normal school, maintaining normal grades, making a few normal friends, and so on.

He did not bother to sigh as he continued in the general direction (he hoped) of his classroom. The paper had said it was 4-A, and he knew from the brief look at the map earlier that it was towards the south end of the school at least, and on the fourth floor. It would not be difficult to find once he reached the inside of the building.

The crowds of other students attracted his gaze despite his hesitancy, and as he put on an air of shyness to disguise his interest, he couldn't help but notice certain patterns. The older boys walked with other older boys, the girls with the hiked-up skirts walked with others like them, the cute but more conservative girls were grouped with their own kind, and so on. There was a tangible grouping of how it was set up, the social hierarchy of this place, in which, had he been revealed for his true potential, he would have certainly been on top of.

As it was, he was beginning to wonder if he was at the bottom of the ladder. True, he was at least above the level of the girls with glasses, a few extra pounds on their bodies, or bright colored gaudy ribbons in their hair, but then, they seemed to be the lowest rung in this place. He actually didn't himself mind the ribbons, but then he wasn't the one making decisions of social ranking, was he?

With distaste, he noted that he was certainly above these girls, though he hated to think of it like that. What disappointed him more, however, was the margin by which he seemed to barely miss the middle of the ladder, those girls with their cute pigtails and huge, shining eyes of chocolate brown, whipping out cell-phones every few seconds and in doing so showing off the cute attachments in shapes of kittens or strawberries. They were adorable girls, that was certain. And he was not fit to join their ranks, not with his tomboyish hair and his body that lacked the necessary curves.

That put him somewhere between the lowest rung and the middle one. A difficult situation. There didn't seem to be a discernable group between those parts of the ladder, so he would have to choose one or the other. If he went with the unfortunate girls of the lowest rung, he would be forever doomed to their fate as the least desirable fish in the great ocean of Tamaki Academy. The only other option, though, was to pretty himself up enough to make an effort and approach the middle rung clique, which would be a risky situation in itself, especially with the amount of talking he would have to do.

Marth had been told, specifically by the bodyguards he was living with at present, that he had a somewhat androgynous voice, but was it feminine enough? He thought it so, but he had no desire to test his luck, so he was for now subjected to being characterized as a shy, somewhat easy-on-the-eyes first-year girl. With a headband.

… But he did like his headband.

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

As Marth entered his homeroom, the first thought he had was to where he was going to sit. He meekly followed a few other girls to the back of the room where a large chart was tacked to the wall, and noted that it was, in fact, a seating chart. He wasn't all that tall, so he politely waited for them to find their names and leave before he began scanning the paper for his own name.

Ah. There it was. Fujiwara Mariko, the name of his alias, printed neatly in the block that was the seat in the back corner of the classroom, next to the window that looked out upon the courtyard four stories down. He reminded himself to be grateful that he had no fear of heights.

He heard someone walk up behind him, so he hurried from the chart and to his seat, setting down his bookbag, which looked more like a large handbag, as was customary for the girls in this area. It had pale pink flowers printed all over it, which served to make him feel even more girlish, but then he supposed that was a good thing while at school.

The awkwardness of not knowing anyone in the room began to set in, and he tried to calm himself by thinking logical thoughts to himself as he self-consciously brushed invisible specks of dirt from his skirt and ran his delicate fingers through the hair that fell, straight as blades, to the nape of his neck.

He was still consumed by semi-calming thoughts, smiling nervously in habit, when a shape drifted in front of him, and he looked up at it, blinking at the unexpected entrance of a truly attractive girl who sported a rather short skirt and a cute, high ponytail tied with a sky blue hair tie. No ribbon? She had to be middle rung, then.

By her appearance, it was even more obvious that she wasn't one of the smallest fish in the sea. Her body had enough in the way of visible curves to be naturally feminine, and her face was adorably soft, with dark, nearly black eyes. Her glossed lips turned up at the corners suddenly when she saw his no-doubt apprehensive smile, and she bowed slightly to him, obviously having been waiting for him to notice her.

"Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Akasumi Rin. You must new to Ryoyama, right?" She greeted him, a model-quality half-smile revealing perfect teeth. Her voice was melodic and soothing, oddly enough.

"U-um yes, I am." Marth answered quietly, and then, remembering his manners, exclaimed, "Oh! I'm Fujiwara Mariko. Nice to meet you."

Luckily his slight panic had made his voice a tad bit higher in pitch, and the resulting tone was pleasingly effeminate, enough so that it made him relax a little, which by Rin's extra-bright smile she took as a compliment of her friendliness.

"Well hey, I sit right here," Rin patted the desk to the right of Marth's, the closest besides the one in front of him, and then tilted her head cutely. "So if you need anything, I'll help ya!"

"O-okay." Marth squeaked, and attempted an adorable smile, which he assumed ended up looking vaguely worried, since she then proceeded to ask him if he was okay, to which he nodded hastily.

It was going to be a long day, and he realized that he needed to work on his hesitant smile.

* * *

He had gotten lost. It was unacceptable, really, but it happened all the same. One mistake, one haphazard glance at an upside-down map, and he had ended up at the wrong end of the school. Now, if he didn't hurry, he would be late for his next class. And tardiness was not well-tolerated here, as far as he had seen.

So he hurried. He half-ran through corridors, upstairs and around a corner, and then, realizing another mistake he had made, went back and scampered up another set of stairs. At least, halfway up another set of stairs.

His cautiousness having been abandoned, an extra step caught him by surprise as he ran up the stairway, and his foot caught, catapulting him forwards before he could do anything to catch himself. He felt his skirt billow up as he crashed to the ground at the top of the stairs, and his face met the cold floor hard enough that his eyes let go a few tears upon impact.

If anyone had seen his skirt go up, he was probably in a bit of a situation. As it was, quite a few students had stopped in their steps when they saw him fall at the top of the stairs, some sympathetic, others, by the sound of their undisguised laughter, entertained. But it looked like no one had been behind him when he fell, because –

"Are you all right?" An older boy's voice came from behind him, shattering his hopes that no one had seen up his skirt. "That looked pretty painful."

Despite his casual words, the boy's tone was calm, even comforting, and when Marth looked up, barely restrained tears stinging the corners of his eyes from the pain in his cheek, he saw that the boy's – or rather, the guy's – expression was one of concern, not mirth or apathy, as he would have expected.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." Marth lied, and then remembered that he was a girl, so he spared no energy to disguise the way his right leg gave out under him as he tried to stand.

Fortunately, the guy's – he was probably a senior, by his height – the senior's hand caught his wrist firmly to make sure he didn't fall down again, which, with his luck, would have resulted in his falling down the stairs next.

"Whoa, careful there." The senior gave him a sheepish smile, awkwardly helping him up and then, spotting the workbook that had fallen out of Marth's bag, picked it up off the ground, brushed it off with a hand, and handed it back to him.

"Th-thanks." Marth stuttered, embarrassed, as he took the book from the senior and his fingers brushed his. "S-sorry you had to um, I'm kinda blocking your way…"

The senior, surprisingly, also blushed slightly, and glanced at the wall as if looking for answers before his eyes found Marth's once again. "It's all right, I don't mind."

He had the most amazing, vivid blue hair, even more stunning than Marth's own, and it was spiky and wild, but with a seemingly natural layout to it that made his hair look like a work of art, especially because the headband he wore, overlapped by spiky strands. Marth had a notion that headbands weren't usually allowed in the dress code, but perhaps this guy had permission for some reason.

"So… are you a first-year?" The senior, his deep blue eyes fixed on Marth's, unknowing of their effect, asked. "I could… help you find your classroom, if you're lost."

"Y-eah, that would be great." Marth said quickly, cursing his stumbling tongue, even if it did make him sound particularly effeminate.

He looked to the senior again, at first to follow him, but, when said senior didn't move, he was instead mesmerized by the rather handsome face that he was trying not to stare at. He really hadn't been looking, really looking, at first, but now it was clear that this wasn't just some random senior. This guy had to be top-tier, one of the elite male students of the school in popularity. His face was just indescribably handsome, not too effeminate but not full of angles and hardness that it looked like a caveman, as some of the seniors he had seen. His eyes were ridiculously deep, full and open, like he had never had a reason to mask his emotions.

As the senior smiled at him, Marth felt the hotness on his face burn even more harshly, and he realized that, beyond even the rest of the older boy's appearance, his smile, completely trusting and sincere, was by far his most genuinely attractive quality.

… Although, naturally, this thought was not expressed nearly as eloquently in Marth's mind, which was forgetting itself. Marth even forgot himself enough that he mistakenly thought he was really a girl for a few moments, in a chance meeting with an attractive older boy.

"I'm Ike." The senior said suddenly, bowing gracefully, and straightening with a tentative grin, warm like his smile and not at all predatory like some boys' grins were. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself before."

"N-no, it's fine," Marth rushed his words, and then made himself slow down as he said, "I'm Ma-Mariko. Fujiwara Mariko." He cursed himself for allowing the slip with his first name, but at least he had made sure to choose one with the same first syllable as his.

"That's a cute name." Ike smiled, and gestured towards the hallway to their left. "Are you… can you walk okay?" His face, open as always, conveyed worry with his recent inquiry.

"I think so." Marth said hesitantly, and then tried to take a step forward. His right knee still pained him, but he managed to keep standing, and shifted his bookbag to his left shoulder to compensate for the injury.

Ike glanced down at the source of the limp, and immediately stopped Marth in his tracks with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, wait."

Marth froze as Ike bent down to look at his knee, feeling unspeakably awkward with the handsome senior examining his legs, even if it was because of a nasty looking scrape that wasn't at all attractive on him. He felt careful fingers brush his leg where the scrape ended and the small cluster of bruises began, and despite his effort, the minute action caused a lancing pain to shoot up his leg, and he felt himself start to collapse as his leg gave out.

It happened so fast that he really didn't have time to do anything. If he had had time to think, he might have done something – he had no idea what – to avoid falling on his hands and knees. But he didn't have any time.

As he fell, he closed his eyes instinctively, feeling himself collapse through the air and into a warm object, which wrapped its arms around him to stop his descent and to take the impact.

He opened his eyes to see Ike's face mere inches from his, staring down at him with surprised eyes for a moment before those eyes showed worry again. The arms wrapped more tightly around him, holding them in the awkward position they were in, presumably to make sure Marth didn't fall onto his knees again, and he felt his face grow hot again, both in shame and at their closeness.

"Sorry about this, I'll take you to the nurse's room, okay?" Ike apologized, light blush spreading across his face as he saw Marth's own reddening face. "I don't mean to seem like I'm coming onto you or anything."

"I-it's okay." Marth was disturbingly aware of the warmth all around him, of those strong arms encircling him, of the hard chest he was pressed up against, and of the way his breathing was speeding up without his approval, adrenaline rushing. It wasn't right, but he couldn't just dismiss his reaction as a result of the stress of the situation.

Ike, with infinite care, took hold of Marth's waist and, rising, stood him up. Marth gave his best effort to stand, but after the abuse his body had suffered on the stairs and then trying to walk, it abandoned him, and he fell forward into Ike again, this time sparing no shame at his weakness and letting his arms wrap around Ike to steady himself.

"Sorry…" Marth winced, trembling as he tried to stand again, and was unable to do so.

"No, it's all right." Ike whispered comfortingly, and leaned down and shifted Marth's grip to his shoulders. "I don't think you can even stand." It should have been insulting to the usually sturdy-enough prince, but with Ike's sympathetic tone, nothing could have sounded less offensive.

One of Ike's arms came to rest around Marth's shoulders, and then he bent down and the other hand came under the prince's legs, and suddenly Marth's world shifted rapidly, and he was being carried in Ike's arms, cradled against his chest. He began walking in what Marth assumed was the direction of the nurse's room.

"Um… c-can you really… are you sure…?" Marth mixed up his sentence, but Ike got the gist of it anyway. Or thought he did.

"It's fine, I don't like to brag, but…" Ike looked like he would have scratched his head, but none of his arms were free. "… I'm the captain of the kendo club."

"Wha – really?" Marth's mouth fell open, and stayed open.

"Uh, yeah." Ike smiled, and leaned down slightly so that he was even closer. "Although there's this other guy I think is better than me."

"I doubt it." Marth said without thinking, and then flushed. He hadn't really meant to speak so bluntly. After all, he was a girl, and he was supposed to be bursting into tears at the moment and clinging to his knight in shining armor.

Ike seemed delighted by Marth's straightforward compliment, though, and grinned. "Thanks."

Marth gradually relaxed as Ike walked on, and before long he felt almost comfortable in his savior's arms. A dangerous thing for a prince in disguise, but he couldn't exactly help it. This Ike was a really great guy. He seemed like the kind of person who knew the rules and wasn't afraid of anything.

When they reached the nurse's room, Marth was almost afraid to go in without Ike, but luckily he didn't have to, since he couldn't walk anyway, and Ike carried him in. The nurse gave them a curious look, but asked no questions, and only smiled at both of them.

"Oh, my, it's Ike. And a damsel in distress?" The Nurse asked perkily, her wild golden-blonde hair swishing behind her as she darted around the room to obtain various items to treat her patient.

Ike slowly and gently eased Marth from his arms onto the waiting hospital room bed, and at the moment his arms retreated, their gazes locked, and Marth felt his mouth go dry at the completely caring look on Ike's face, like the prince's well-being was the only thing he was thinking of.

Marth couldn't boast of the same thing, for at that moment, after Ike had so gently let him down onto the bed, all he was thinking of was whether Ike kissed with the same tenderness and hesitancy with which he seemed to do all things.

His romantic reverie was broken when Ike backed away to let the nurse – her nametag said 'Peach' – tend to him. Nurse Peach had a gentle touch, even lighter than Ike's because of her delicately feminine hands, and before long she had Marth patched up well enough that he had no complaints, not that he would usually complain after being helped in such a way.

Marth expressed his gratefulness the nurse, but already he seemed to be drifting off to sleep from whatever she had given him. She had mentioned something about rest before she floated away to attend to whatever she was attending to, and he supposed it was better that he did recover a bit, since he couldn't even walk as it was.

He was rather surprised, to put it lightly, when Ike came around the side of the bed and gave his sleepy girl self a soft smile.

"Y-you're still here…" Marth said quietly, and yawned. Ike blushed abruptly as the prince stretched wearily, arms above his head before they retracted slightly and lay weakly there.

"I wanted to make sure, you know, that you were okay." Ike said sheepishly, and he did scratch his head this time, since he had free hands. "Sorry for all the trouble."

"No… I fell… not your… fault…" Marth's eyes started to close of their own accord, and he couldn't get them to open again as he steadily grew more and more tired.

"Still, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you try to walk, and-" Ike cut himself off as Marth yawned again and his body suddenly relaxed.

Ike's warm hand caught one of his, and gave it a light squeeze before letting it go.

"Sleep well." The whisper drifted slowly to Marth, where it seemed to linger and float around for a while, the last thing he heard as he fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Marth had been somewhat lucky in his fall, because nothing was actually broken or particularly damaged. The nasty scrape on his right knee, as well as the bruises, were the only reason for his inability to stand. After he woke up roughly four hours later in the nurse's room, though, he felt a good deal better, and he was being more-or-less optimistic and hoping that he might be able to walk to the train station and home without assistance.

He sat up carefully, making sure not to shift his right leg, and glanced around the room to see Nurse Peach writing something on a notepad. When she heard the rustle of the sheets, she looked up from her activity to fix him with a sort of motherly expression of concern disguised with a smile.

"Oh, my. Up already?" She gushed worry, and floated over to the side of the bed to lift the sheets off his leg to examine how it was healing. "You are very lucky, young man. You know, these sorts of –"

But all Marth had heard was "young man", and now his mind was racing to figure out if he had merely heard her wrong, or if she really had just referenced to him being male. If she knew… it would be difficult to explain, and doing so could put him in a dangerous situation, especially if news of his whereabouts were to get out to the public. He was in hiding for a reason, after all.

"U-um…" Marth put on his best girlish act. "Did you just call me a… a… young man…?" He hoped against hope that he had only heard her wrong.

"Oh, you silly! I won't tell anyone!" She simpered, and seemed unaware that her realization had such a colossal impact on him. "You talk in your sleep, you know."

"I… do?" Marth paled, a ball of fear forming in his stomach. "Did… um, he… hear?"

"Who, Ike? Oh, no, he left after you fell asleep." Peach waved off his concern with a white-latex-gloved hand. "Now, don't you worry about a thing. I'll have you fixed up in no time."

"What?" Marth could only look at her dumbly, not understanding for a moment.

"Your knee, honey." Nurse Peach gave him a sympathetic look for his confusion. "It is doing well, but I think you should have someone pick you up."

"O-oh, right, yes… well…" Marth didn't bother trying to sound girlish now that she knew, and lapsed into his rather formal method of speech. "That is fine. May I make a call?"

"Why, of course, go ahead. I'll get some things readied for you to take with you." Peach bustled over to some cabinets and started removing a couple things that looked like ice packs.

"Nurse Peach," Marth called out hesitantly, and she turned around as he addressed her. "There is no need, I have the appropriate medical items at my residence. Thank you for your concern, nevertheless."

"Oh, I see!" She said, understanding, and packed away the supplies to rush over to her desk, writing something as he took out his cell phone.

It was a rather plain phone, one of the reasons that, now that he thought about it, he expected to be low tier on the social ladder. Yes, it was shiny and a pearly white, with silver buttons, but there were no charms attached to it, no dangling hearts or stars. No stickers made it stand out. It was, in fact, only a cell phone to him, not an avenue for expressing his personality. No, that responsibility fell to his hairband collection.

He pushed a button and the cell phone dialed 'Home' for him as he placed it beside his ear. Various beeps issued from its small speaker while it attempted to contact his household phone.

"Hello, this is the Fujiwara Residence." Bodyguard One answered, his smooth voice sounding politely interested.

"Hello, Ma-Mariko speaking." Marth said, with no small bit of humiliation. Usually when he phoned his bodyguards, he simply whispered his own name, but doing so while in the vicinity of Nurse Peach would only cause unnecessary suspicion to her. After all, she knew he wasn't 'Mariko' but if he made as if to not let her onto his real name, it would be even stranger, like he had something to hide.

Which, of course, he did.

"Prince Marth!" Bodyguard One exclaimed, surprised. "Beg pardon, but are you not attending school at this time?"

"I'm afraid I have managed to injure myself." Marth winced, hating to admit something so ridiculous, especially since it was only the first day of school, and he was in actuality a healthy, fit boy. "I will need to be picked up at the school."

"I see." The bodyguard replied, being kind enough not to ask Marth what had happened. "I will be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you." Marth said gratefully, and, realizing that Nurse Peach assumed he was talking to one of his parents, added a goodbye. The bodyguard would know to change his appearance so that he looked the part of a kindly parent.

When he put away his phone, Peach was already at his side with a neatly printed note detailing the reason for his absences, as well as an extra note in case he was not ready to come to school the next day.

"Thank you," He sighed, humiliated beyond measure by the turn of events, which, now that Ike had long vacated the picture, now seemed more like a nightmare than an adventure.

"You're very welcome. Be sure to take care of yourself!" Nurse Peach cautioned wisely, and then she gave him a knowing smile. "You were lucky Ike was around to help you, hmm?"

Marth blushed faintly and looked away, trying to steer his thoughts away from the rather dashing senior. "Yes, very much so."

* * *

Bodyguard One, after retrieving him from the nurse's room and carrying him to the waiting car – an inconspicuously middle-class model – placed him carefully in the passenger seat.

"Young master, you seem to have quite the injury." The bodyguard noted, doing up the seatbelt for him despite the fact that he could have taken care of it himself. "Whatever happened?"

The doors to the car closed, and Bodyguard One steered the car out onto the road and towards home, still waiting for a reply.

"… I fell down." Marth admitted with horror, the full impact of the pathetic situation hitting him slowly. "On the stairs."

"Was there a fight?" The bodyguard asked cautiously, doubting that Marth would do something to draw attention to himself by also skeptical of the graceful prince's story of 'falling down'.

"No." Marth sighed, running fingers through his hair, which felt flattened in the back from being slept on. "I became lost before my second class, and began to rush. My haste caused me to… trip… on the stairs, and consequentially I fell with much momentum onto my knee."

"I see." Bodyguard One, an eyebrow raised, acknowledged, now believing the explanation. With one exception. "And how was it that the young master was able to walk to the nurse's room, with such injuries?"

Marth hesitated, shame fueling a blush that spread across his face despite his fight for control of it. "I had… assistance… from a kind senior."

"Admirable. He must have been strong, to carry you through the school." Bodyguard One mused aloud, purposefully nudging the conversation to discuss this 'kind senior'. "You are not overly-heavy, young master, but neither are you particularly light."

"He is… captain of the kendo team." Marth admitted, feeling his spirits lift slightly as he talked of his rescuer. "It was not difficult for him."

"Hmm. Kendo captain, yes?" The bodyguard donned a casually interested expression, masking what was surely an inner curiosity at the possibility of a love interest for the young prince. "He was not rough in his handling of you, young master?"

"Not at all." Marth flushed, and looked out his window as an escape valve for his emotions. "He was… very gentle with me."

"A gentle kendo captain, hmm." Bodyguard One nodded to himself. "Was he handsome?"

"Mariko thought it so." Marth mumbled, not at all liking the direction the talk was taking, and trying to get around answering the question.

"Did young master agree with Mariko's assessment?" Bodyguard One smiled slightly, taking a slightly longer route to the household in order to find out more about this senior.

"I was not entirely conscious, so I cannot say." Marth evaded the question as best he could, and then supplied an extra piece of information to appease his bodyguard into asking no more questions. "His name was Ike, if I recall rightly."

"I am sure that they young master would not forget the name of such a kind, strong boy who came to his aid." The bodyguard suggested, trying not to smile too obviously at the defensiveness Marth was showing at the continued discussion of his recent savior. "If the young master should see him again, perhaps it would be well to invite him to dinner, to express thanks."

Marth closed his eyes for a moment, becoming slightly annoyed with Bodyguard One's pursuing of the subject at hand. "Perhaps."

* * *


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
**

Marth awoke the next morning to a stiffness in his leg, but no other remnants of the fiasco that was his first day at school. He stretched gingerly, and, when he sensed no pain, at once gave a relieved sigh. Being absent on the second day of school would have drawn much attention to him, and most likely would have pointed him out to various unsavory students who might ask questions, or worse, make fun of him.

In better day, Prince Marth would have questioned himself at this thought. After all, what did it matter to him how the rest of the school population viewed him? His goal, after all, was to be an average, completely unnoticed schoolgirl, and that most definitely ruled out popularity schemes. Even if he was rightfully top tier on the ladder of high school fame. As he was now, he had little chance of climbing said ladder, and less motive, if any.

With a determined and neutral expression that was his usual mask, he began dressing in his uniform with a grace only natural for a young man who has practiced hard to be able to slip into a girl's knee-length pleated skirt and sailor top without wincing. He had trained himself the entire summer before this, in order to improve the already ridiculous plan to go into hiding. His training had been unconventional, it could be said; he practiced taking on and off female clothing to become accustomed to it, he rehearsed a more feminine walk and speech patterns, and he psychologically prepared himself, in a way, to think of himself as a girl like any other in the school. This type of girl was a typically shy but likable female who made her own small efforts to impress and move up the ladder, was intensely vulnerable to criticism, had relatively low self esteem, and became a molten lump of coal when in the presence of a male with an attractiveness even just slightly above average. Ike was most certainly above average.

Marth reprimanded himself for the thought immediately, telling himself in even tones that he was even better at being a girl than was required of him, but he should not let it go to his head, nor should he lose himself psychologically and become, in his mind, a teenage female. That would most likely be a catastrophe of epic proportions.

He belatedly realized that he was now standing in the middle of his room, fully dressed and preened, hair already brushed without his notice, bag packed and resting on one shoulder. This made his decision for him, and he proceeded to slide open the shoji door and head towards the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Bodyguard One turned to face him as he entered, and smiled good-naturedly. "The young master's breakfast is ready."

"Thank you." Marth said politely, and said nothing more as he consequently moved onto more important matters, such as consuming the delicious fried egg and bacon concoction that was breakfast, along with a small bowl of white rice.

That being finished, he gave a curt but effective goodbye to Bodyguard One, and slipped on his shoes to exit the house, outside of which was their inconspicuous car, already started, with Bodyguard Two sitting there waiting for him.

"Is the young master fully recovered?" Bodyguard Two asked concernedly as Marth did the seatbelt up.

"Yes, I believe so." Marth said briefly, and said no more. He was not in a talkative mood today, as supposed to any other day, when he was just as uncommunicative.

"That is good to hear." Bodyguard Two replied conversationally, and, sensing the prince's bland mood, settled into the ensuing silence.

* * *

Marth stepped out of the car carefully, smoothing his skirt as he did so, before looking up at his school with no small amount of dread. He had believed that, after successfully returning the second day, he would feel some sort of power, a bit of inspiration, even, that should have come with his usual morning determination and the fact that he could walk once again.

But fate was not kind to the prince, and instead of a blissful feeling of courage he was rewarded with a twisting in his stomach, along with the sort of feeling that could only be described as 'fear'. He greatly disliked this feeling 'fear', and he hoped desperately that it would not accompany him throughout the day.

It did. Through first class, through second class, through third class, through lunch, through four class, through fifth class, through sixth class, and through afternoon's traditional cleaning. It was remorseless and constant, eating away at his self-esteem until he, too, seemed to take every little stare and glance as a critique, a meaningful appraising of his status in this forsaken place. He felt the lump of coldness grow in his stomach as he noticed himself being carried into the freezing rapids of high school drama, that stage with a blinding spotlight on him alone.

He saw Ike once, a hurried glance that showed him the beautiful blue spiky hair and that odd bandana that, strangely enough, reminded him of his penchant for wearing headbands. But his glance was not returned, and his heart sank into his stomach in defeatedness. He told himself exasperatedly that Ike had probably been talking to someone, or simply hadn't seen him. And even so, why should he, Prince Marth of Altea, care that a high school senior, kendo captain or no kendo captain, had not returned a meaningless glance?

After he had calmed down slightly from the alarming event that had not really been an event at all, Marth had walked cautiously to fifth class, without mishap of course. He comforted himself with the fact that he now knew where all of his classes were, vaguely at least, and he was now less aware of his female gait than he had been, as if he was settling into it. (Later, close to falling asleep in his home, the prince would cringe at the thought of himself, in his royal and very handsome clothing, gliding along in that graceful but completely effeminate way, unable to revert to his more normal walk.)

And now the last bell had rung, and school was let out for the day. Marth gave himself a well-deserved mental congratulations for making it through his first full day of classes, talking to that girl he had met the first day whose name he could not recall, and for not making a fool of himself in any concrete way (but possibly in an imagined way, since the self-consciousness that had come upon him made himself rethink the ways he thought others were looking at him). He was entirely grateful for all the work he had put in that past summer, trying on clothes, imitating girls from television dramas and movies, even going so far as to – by necessity, of course – get Bodyguard One to teach him the inner workings of make-up application. Bodyguard One had given the explanation that 'he had known something like this might happen' but refused to elaborate on those words.

Once again he fell out of his own thoughts and into the present moment with slight discord as he realized that someone was quite possibly talking to him. He looked up from his shoes, identified his location as near the outskirts of the school and close to the train station, and then found the person, or rather, persons, who had been trying to get his attention.

They were unsavory boys, the kind that tried to look tough by unbuttoning their uniforms partly as soon as they exited the school, messing with their hair and speaking in a way that they apparently thought made them 'gangsters'.

"Hey girl, say something!" One of the unsavory ones jeered, as if they had already been talking to her.

"You scared of us, huh? Nothin' to be scared of, yeah, we're nice guys!" Another one grinned with a weird look in his eyes, and Marth hurriedly looked back down at his feet, and began to walk faster. The train station was close now; he was safe enough.

"What's the dorky headband for, girl? I think you'd be better without it!" The first one sneered at her, obviously attempting to upset her. "In fact, I think you'd be better without _all of it_."

Marth stiffened perceptibly at the jibe, and faltered slightly in his step, nearly tripping before he forced himself to keep moving, keep moving, and not react to their taunts. It was arduous, though, to bear such an insult – he did not care for the second comment much, but the stab at his headband was the one that really lit his eyes on fire. He wanted vengeance, he wanted to turn around and tell them exactly how much he liked his headband, while giving all three of them such a beating that they would never look at a girl the same way again.

But he did not. And, unfortunately, this opened up a window of opportunity where the boys decided to close in on him right before he made it into the vicinity of the train station.

"Let's play around with her, yeah? Have some fun," Suggested the one who seemed like their leader by his disgusting smirk and pompous attitude.

They surrounded Marth before he could start running, and the warning signs flashed in his mind like fiery beacons. He would have to take them out, all three of them, rather than risk being found out as what he truly was.

"Leave me alone." He said, in a serious tone that was not at all effeminate.

"Aw, look, she's trying to be tough!" They hooted with laughter, shaking and pointing at her with their large hands.

Marth was surprised they hadn't noticed how boyish his voice was, but had no time to contemplate further when one of them slipped an arm around his waist.

He reacted from instinct, grasping the offending arm and twisting until its owner cried out in pained shock. "She – that little bitch, get her off me!"

Marth then realized his mistake as both his arms were seized, one by each of the other two boys, and he was effectively incapacitated, unable to do more than struggle helplessly against their grips. They were much larger than he, and there were three of them, the third, partially injured one grabbing a chunk of short hair and yanking hard it to get her attention as tears sprang unwillingly to her eyes.

"You'd all better let her go, or you'll get no sympathy from me." A semi-familiar voice rang out wonderfully, stopping the vile boys temporarily.

The leader looked over at the approaching young man, who was around their height and well built, but with open eyes like doorways to his emotions. The nasty guy spat at Ike, taking him to be a naïve hero wannabe by his words and his sincerity. "Mr. Hero thinks he's here to save the day, huh?"

Marth struggled to look over at Ike, but the two holding him turned him slightly so that the action was impossible, taking him away from the possibility of escape. At the same time they tightened their holds to a painful point, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the already mishandled prince.

"Let her go." Ike commanded, voice lower and more dangerous than Marth had imagined it could ever be. Unseen by him, Ike's dark blue eyes flashed a warning to the gangsters, and he tensed, prepared for a fight.

"No way!" The leader grinned devilishly, and sprang forward to get the first hit in.

Ike backhanded him with such force that the punk flew several feet onto the brick walkway, with a sound like a sonic boom. The guy gave an outraged yelp, but did not dare to move. His protégés abandoned Marth immediately and made a run for it, out of sight around the corner of the train station before the prince recovered emotionally enough to steady himself and rub his arms in relief.

"You… scum… why do you… care… 'bout some girl?" The leader asked idiotically, and was lucky that Ike was not the kind of man to kick an already downed enemy.

As it was, Ike, now something of a heavenly savior in Marth's mind, only turned slightly to look down at the injured punk, and replied heroically, "I fight for my friends."

And Ike turned around and went to Marth to inquire of his health, and of the possibilities of any new injuries. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Marth said in his regular voice, and then added, in a somewhat more feminine tone, "Thank you… for that."

"You sure you're okay?" Ike asked hesitantly, noticing how 'Mariko' would not look at him properly, but not being rude enough to comment on it directly.

"Mmm hmm." Marth replied in a girly way, managing a weak smile that, little did Ike know, stemmed from his growing ability to play his role well with barely an effort.

"Oh hey," Ike began, and paused, picking up the fallen headband and handing it back to Marth. "Here."

Marth took the headband from him with a trembling hand, wincing inwardly as he knew he would when their fingers inevitably made contact. He put it back into place, holding his hair back, and then bit his lip nervously. He could not remember the headband falling off his head in the first place, but he supposed it had happened at a point where he wasn't noticing much of anything.

"Bunch of creeps… those kinds shouldn't even be… well…" Ike trailed off, having made his point, more-or-less. "Sorry I didn't show up sooner."

"It's all right." Marth reassured him, gradually trying to slow his heart rate from its previous state of intense fear.

"Are you taking the train?" Ike asked awkwardly, turning the subject away from the distastefulness.

"Yes, to Abenomachi." Marth admitted, noticing Ike's curious eyes on him, and wondering if this curiosity was a bad sign for him, being that he was trying not to attract attention.

"I get off at the stop after that…" Ike scratched the back of his neck as if lost in thought for a moment. "I could… I mean, you wanna sit with me?"

Marth's gaze snapped up at the invitation, and his eyes met Ike's for the first time that day in his astonishment. Ike wanted to sit with him. Ike wanted to talk to him. Ike was _offering _to sit with him on the train, in what looked like casual interest as supposed to pity or philanthropic kindness.

"T-that would be… nice." Marth stumbled in his speech, and fumed mentally about how that was _not _necessary, and he could have replied much more eloquently and still have been believably girly.

They got onto the train to find that all the seats were already taken, so they were forced to stand, leaning against the back wall of the train. Ike stood there like a stone statue, so unshakable he appeared to be, even on the fast-moving train. Marth had somewhat more difficulty, but was swaying slightly every once in a while since he had no handhold – he could have reached up and took hold of the nearest one, but he was afraid his sailor shirt would ride up, and he was loath to expose his no doubt boyish stomach.

As a result, when the train took a particularly swift turn along the tracks, Marth lost his balance abruptly and was caught by the strong arms of the still motionless Ike. Those arms encircled him, making him think of bears for an instant before his thoughts were all taken up by the nice, safe feeling of being held, or something like it.

Naturally, Ike released him once he regained his balance, but Marth found himself wondering, for some reason, what it would be like to be held in that way for a longer period of time – forever sounded fine.

"This is your stop, Fujiwara-san." Ike reminded him gently, no doubt noticing the prince's hazy eyes.

"Oh. Yes. Right." Marth said hurriedly, and then corrected Ike in an oddly bold move that made him feel rebellious in some way. "You can call me 'Mariko'."

And then he smiled timidly, and left the train with a very fond memory of Ike looking down at him with an expression of surprise followed by an un-tempered smile.

* * *


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As night slipped over the house and darkened his bedroom through curtained windows, Marth was succeeding in denying, even to himself, that he had any interest in Ike whatsoever, besides that of a convenient friendship. And even that was problematic in that it would draw attention – after all, a first-year, seen with a senior boy was enough to condemn him to the status of 'girlfriend'. And that label simultaneously terrified and annoyed him.

As he sat down on his bed at last, clothed in his usual silk button-down shirt and pants for the sake of modesty, he glanced towards the shrouded window with an expression that, should he have seen it, would have made him cringe. It was a hesitant expression that slowly changed into a desperate sort of longing, as if he was pining for a lost lover.

Marth, however, did not see his own expression, and therefore was unaffected as he crawled under the covers of his bed. He shivered slightly as he snuggled into the cold bedding, but soon grew accustomed and settled in, breathing evening out and eyes drifting closed.

A memory of Ike, warm eyes locked onto his, drifted into his weary mind, and he attempted to rid himself of it by thinking of the night sky and the stars, and the clouds floating past the beautiful moon. This only worsened the situation, however, as the picture of Ike blended with the midnight, and became a panorama of the two of them, sitting on a grassy hill in the dead of night, completely silent and yet comfortable in each other's presence, as if with an unspoken familiarity.

The prince sighed into his pillow, reminding himself that there was no reason to be sitting on a grassy hill with Ike, heavenly savior or not, and there was certainly no explanation for such an easy wordless exchange between them, even had they been in that situation. Ike may have very well rescued him from the clutches of the ill-mannered students earlier that day, but he had added to Marth's emotional dilemmas once again, this time in a way that was not erasable.

Thus, since said dilemma could not be forgotten, he chose to instead disguise it, hide it from himself and everyone else, and quite simply pretend that he had never had such thoughts, those thoughts of endless 'maybe this' or 'maybe that'. They sank to the corner of his mind, where they festered, sending a constant and unsettling nervousness through him when he recalled them, and even by chance, when the subject was brought up to him by other ways.

The subject was staring him down at present, a hulking terror crouched beside his bed, ready to devour him the moment he opened cautious eyes. The prince, keeping his eyes tightly shut, was unable to think of anything else, and was sentenced, for the next hour of consciousness, to be plagued by this thing, this attraction, as if affected by some deadly illness.

* * *

_The ground was soft in a strange way, nearly fluffy, as Marth eased into a sitting position, looking up to see a bright blue sky and accompanying tufts of clouds. He then saw that he had been lying in the middle of a flowery meadow, and swiftly got to his feet, noting his royal garb and armor, as well as the sword belted to his waist in its bejeweled scabbard._

_Before he had even become accustomed to his surroundings, however, there came a rustling of leaves at the edge of the meadow, and by the fringe of trees a bush shook, and a large shape stepped out. It was a warrior, armored and hefting a heavy blade that rested on one strong shoulder as if it was no weight at all._

"_Ike?" Marth called out hesitantly, unfamiliar of his surroundings to the point of anxiousness. _

_The warrior charged at him, and the prince barely managed to dodge out of the way of a swinging blade that cut through the air without mercy. It was Ike, judging by the glimpse Marth had of azure hair and matching eyes, like glowing sapphires spinning to gauge the movements of an opponent, calculating. But what was Ike doing in a place like this?_

"_Where are we?" Marth posed the question to an unconcerned and unnaturally silent Ike, uncertain as to what was going on, where this place was located, or even what day it was. He should have begun to panic, but such was the dreamlike state of his mind that smoothed over the details and directed his interest towards other things, of lesser importance perhaps, such as the fact that Ike appeared to be ignoring him._

"_Ike?" Marth tried once more, sword held up defensively as he watched his friend circle him like a wolf waiting to pounce on a rabbit. "Ike, what-"_

_Their blades clashed as Marth instinctively parried the hit that otherwise would have nearly sent him to his knees, such was the overpowering strength behind that deadly sword. Fear beginning to set in, freezing the depths of his stomach, he braved a glance at Ike and found the warrior's face to be completely neutral, neither angry nor malicious nor in any way harboring a desire to hurt him. Simply a blank slate, but somehow that was worse in its premonition than an expression of utmost fury._

"_Ike!" Marth protested as the blue-haired swordsman came at him again, blade flying as if of its own accord, and he was forced to defend himself with ever-weakening guards due to the overwhelming strength of his foe._

_Ike once again gave no indication that he had even heard the exclamation, and his heavy blade did not stop in its torrential strikes, each one determined not to miss._

_Marth's eyes widened marginally with each new attack launched upon him by his own savior, and was now only barely able to keep up his defense against such an unexpected adversary. It would do no good to beg for mercy here – this enemy would not hear his pleas. At least, that was what seemed likely this far in the game._

_As the prince raised his sword to block the next flurry of attacks, Ike suddenly smote the blade from his grip with such force that it flew ten feet and buried itself in the flowery undergrowth. The sky had darkened to a grey pallor during the time they had fought, but he had not noticed before that moment, as Ike's gaze settled on him with what, for the first time, could be described as an emotion: satisfaction. _

_Marth began to step backwards, heeding his inner warning that had sprang up as he saw Ike's face become a picture of unnaturally dark mischief, but no, not mischief at all. It was more like morbid curiosity, expressed vaguely as narrowed eyes and lips that would have formed a pleasant smile had not the overall expression been something of a more negative nature. It was not a face presented to someone with the prospect of any sort of pleasant meeting._

_Ike tossed his blade lightly into the grass, completely unhurried, eyes following every minute movement of his prey as he did so. Those eyes, stalking him like a hunting beast, told Marth all he needed to know._

_He turned and ran, without any sense of loss of honor or shame at fleeing a battle. This was no battle, this was something else, something much more twisted. He could feel the mist gathering in the forest as he weaved through the many old trees, desperately searching his mind for a way to escape what was coming after him, and he struggled to watch the ground as he ran, dodging tree roots in the knowledge that a single fall could mean the end of the chase._

_He could hear the footsteps behind him as if they were being imprinted on his mind, but he did not dare look over his shoulder to confirm that there really was a pursuer other than the one in his head. It sounded very much like Ike was close, too close, to catching up to him, and that gave him renewed strength, temporarily, to keep running._

_The trees parted without warning, revealing the ruins of an old temple, nothing more than several half-demolished pillars, chunks of stones, and one intact column standing proudly all on its own, clearly the only part of the temple to have survived whatever destroyed the place. This was not a welcome sight, however, because it appeared to be a dead end, surrounded by a steep mountainous wall of rock, impossible to climb with any efficiency._

_Marth panicked. He ran towards the ruins with the intention of heading through them and then back into the forest, more to the right than where he had exited it, and then back the way he had came, should the pursuer not be close enough to see his attempt to backtrack._

_But Marth had not intended for his enemy to somehow, beyond the realms of explanation, manage to circle the ruins from the opposite side and appear exactly in front of him, so abruptly that they collided, and if Marth hadn't been so terrified for his life he might have screamed. Arms seized him by the shoulders before he could even recover his breath enough to struggle, and his back met stone painfully as he was shoved against the grey stone column._

_The mist swirled lazily, ominously, as the prince, caught at last, brought his gaze up to settle on his captor with eyes of blue desperation. Ike gazed back fixedly, his own eyes boring into Marth's as he leaned in closer, closer, and Marth came to anticipate the direction they were heading._

"_No…" Marth whispered weakly, not enough breath for words, not enough hope to protest with any vigor. _

_Ike's lips pressed to his, and the sensation of warmth and softness caused him to give a sharp intake of breath before he could stop himself. Ike's mouth moved against his with a slow, velvety rhythm that was frightening in its effects. And then Ike pushed him harder into the stone column, mouth devouring his in earnest, and he squeezed his eyes shut so as not to reveal his mixed feelings, fear and desire and dark curiosity blending together as Ike withdrew briefly and then claimed his mouth again, this time with a bruising strength , and Marth felt a tongue force its way into his mouth, driving all thoughts of everything from his mind with its strokes upon his own tongue, delicious and yet – how could that be – delicious even in such a situation as this one. _

_Marth's eyes were still shut tightly as he felt the grip on his shoulders lessen, and suddenly Ike's hand was stroking him, and he shuddered against the pillar in full shock of what was conspiring, noises of tortured pleasure drifting far away from him, belonging to some other soul in this frigid ruin. He vaguely heard someone whimper before the noise was silenced with forceful lips against his, blocking out all the world with their intense, burning heat against his mouth, and-_

* * *

Walking into the school building looking as immaculate as ever, the picture of Mariko Fujiwara was marred only by the unsettled expression dominating her face. As she waved to a few familiar faces, that anxiousness morphed quickly into a panicked cheerfulness, which in turn quickly subsided once the girls were out of sight.

Marth was troubled. Very troubled. He had just endured a dream that, despite the realism – he assumed – of feelings and senses, was more unreal than anything he had previously dreamt. It was terrifying enough that the dream had begun as a nightmare, forcing him to rethink his bold trust in his new friend, of whom he knew very little indeed. But to add to that a component of the dream which was not only unnecessary but horrifying in its own way and a complete violation of his person… that was terrifying indeed.

Now, Marth had always prided himself, among other reasons, for brushing off superstition and thoughts of prophecies fulfilling themselves, foresight, as some called it. But the rules seemed to have changed now, and he found himself wondering with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling if that dream could become reality. Was Ike, beneath that perfectly normal façade, a cold-hearted villain? A swordsman with an expression as hard and cold as his blade? He had these thoughts, spiraling out of his control, and he could not rein in the paranoia that had settled into his mind comfortably.

It was not until lunchtime that he 'awoke', so to speak, from his emotional stagnancy, his fixation on the terror and disgust generated by his dream. But it was not out of his own determination, or any sort of will of his own. No, his awakening was prompted by something of a more pressing matter to his present situation. And that 'something' was unwanted attention.

"Hey, what's your name?" A girl asked him sweetly, too sweetly, tugging on one of her pigtails childishly. "Mariko, right?"

"Yes, I'm Mariko." Marth answered cautiously, looking up to see a cute face made less attractive by an expression of badly-concealed annoyance.

"Well, _Mariko_, who told you that you could go after _him_, huh?" The girl inquired with no small amount of anger showing.

"Yeah, who?" Echoed a second girl, obviously a part of the first one's posse.

"Shh!" The third girl shushed the second, and the second girl consequently pouted.

Meanwhile, Marth struggled to answer the question. "… Him?"

"Oh my god. Oh. My. God." Girl #1 exclaimed in a way that just said 'oh my god' to the whole situation. "Tell me she didn't just say that!"

"She _so _said that!" Girl #2 echoed faithfully, nodding with righteous indignation.

"Shh!" The third girl held a finger threateningly to her lips.

"Excuse me, but…" Marth tried to carefully clarify the situation. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you were asking me first…?"

"Well you know what?" Girl #1, the leader, suddenly stepped forward and stabbed Marth in the chest with an accusatory finger. "I don't care!"

"Yeah! We don't-"

"Shh!"

Marth stayed silent this time, seeing that these girls weren't thinking in any logical fashion he could comprehend, and therefore wouldn't understand any of his pleas to get straight to the point of the matter. He decided to let them wallow around in their apparent irritation until they figured out what they wanted to ask them.

Girl #1 apparently remembered her goal in coming to him in the first place, and placed her hands on her hips threateningly before more-or-less repeating her first inquiry. "So, what gave you the idea that you could get all cutesy with Ike, you hussy!?"

Marth blinked, trying to ignore the name he had just been labeled with, and then processed the meaning of the actual sentence with slowly growing horror. "What? I-I… I'm not…!"

His blush and wide eyes must have done much to convince them otherwise, for the leader suddenly huffed loudly, eyes nearly flashing in jealousy. "Oh. My. God! What a little witch! And she lies, too!"

"Yeah, she's totally lying!" Girl #2 added with a sniff and an upturned nose.

"Shh!"

"No, really, there's isn't anything going on betwee-" Marth struggled to make his point, but was sadly interrupted once more.

"Ohhhh, you wouldn't dare!" The leader hissed, pigtails now looking entirely menacing as they bounced in fury. "Trying to cover it up like, like that!"

For once Girl #2 was silent, apparently sensing the escalation of the leader's anger and not wanting to upset her further, or at least not desiring to bring attention to herself at the crucial point in the conversation.

The leading girl stepped up to Marth, looking like she was about to threaten 'Mariko' with brute force, her chocolate-brown eyes like glinting obsidian shards, sharp and thirsting for pain.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

"What!? Oh… guh!" Girl #1 shuddered with pent up frustration, and finally shot Marth a venomous look that as good as shouted 'I'll get you next time' before she scampered away furiously, her two cronies following. The second one turned back and also gave Marth a nasty look before she was tugged away by the third girl.

Marth got back to his seat, and was almost ready to give up on it. Not life, but everything else. This ridiculous plan, this school, these _people_. They had sand in their brains, except less brain and more sand, and more air than sand perhaps. He himself couldn't think right after being subjected to their Spanish Inquisition of teenage drama.

How could they believe he was trying for Ike? I mean, besides the fact that he had been seen with the other boy a few times. Was that alone enough to condemn him? Or was he sending out some sort of signal, unbeknownst to him, that said 'look, I'm adorable and available!'? Was it just the fact that he was a girl, and Ike was a boy, and it couldn't get any more obvious than that?

It was a credit to Marth's courageousness that the prince managed to forge his way through the rest of that day, sinking into the quicksand of high school drama faster and faster as his thoughts distracted him from everything else.

The last bell rang without warning, at least to the still-dazed Marth, and as everyone picked up their things and began to leave he had to dart over to his bag to hastily stuff everything into it and heft it over his shoulder to not be left behind. His plan was to exit the school in the harsh rush of traffic in order to avoid being seen by those girls again.

He couldn't believe he was taking precautions to escape a meeting with three high school girls. Girls. Why would he ever need to be wary of girls? Until now, there had never been a reason.

He gave a sigh of relief as he finally left the school, and, with a sudden start, remembered that he had been planning to go to the library. He had forgotten all about the matter, but really he had been meaning to go, in order to pick up some books to cite in a research project for Biology. He would have to walk quite a ways to get there, especially since he had exited the school from the wrong side, and he would have to go back through it now.

With a cringe he turned around and began walking back into the school, wondering if he was going to fall into a trap there, made by those silly girls.

"Hey!"

Marth felt a sudden, gentle weight on his shoulder, and jumped. "Wha-?"

It was Ike. It was Ike. Oh, no, it was Ike. And Ike was smiling at him, though with a look of confusion.

"Hey, I waved but you just turned around. Is… er… something… wrong?" The older boy blushed, scratching his head in a show of 'I'm not worried or anything' that was quite endearing.

Marth shook his head quickly to dispel any unnecessary thoughts, as well as to deny that anything was wrong, which of course there was. "No, e-everything's fine. I didn't, um, see you."

"Oh, that's all?" Ike laughed and relaxed, so very trusting he was in his new friend. "So, uh, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?" Marth answered in an obligatory fashion, eyes glancing around to see if those girls were ahead of them anywhere. He certainly didn't want them to see him with Ike so soon after all that mad business.

"I'm good." Ike grinned, before looking around and realizing that they were back inside the school. "What are we going this way for?"

The way he so casually said 'we', without even seeming to notice, made Marth almost groan. Really, did Ike not know what sort of message he was sending everyone within earshot? And the open smile he kept bestowing Marth with did not help their cause. What, _their_ cause? It had caught him, too.

"I have to go to the library to do some research." Marth said calmly, impressing himself with the steadiness of his speech.

"Wow, that's a while away. But I guess there aren't any train stops near there, so you have to walk." Ike thought aloud, and then added as an afterthought, "I'll go with you."

Marth cringed mentally, but managed to keep everything but a slight wince from his face, which Ike didn't catch because he had looked away for a moment. "Oh, you d-don't have to, it's okay."

"No, I have a project I'm supposed to be doing, I should probably go." Ike gave the excuse in a way that seemed like he really believed it to be a manner of useful coincidence that brought him with Marth to the library, nothing more.

Marth couldn't very well refute that with anything, so he abandoned the idea of getting Ike to leave him alone for the time being, and instead thought up the route he was going to walk, not at all sure of the correct streets.

"Have you been there before?" Ike asked abruptly, conversationally.

"What?" Marth blinked obliviously, having been drawing a map in his mind.

"The library, I mean." Ike smiled warmly.

"Well, n-no, I haven't. I think I know where it is, though." Marth finished the sentence with a note of finality that should have instilled a long, awkward silence, but his plans were foiled by Ike's natural friendliness.

"Hey, don't worry! I've been there tons of times." Ike, the heavenly savior, said confidently. "It's kinda a long walk, but we get to go through the park, and that's always fun."

"The park?" Marth had a sudden, horrifying flashback to the dream, and all the trees everywhere. "What kind of park?"

Ike shrugged, not really knowing how to express in words what the park resembled. "It's nice, lots of trees."

Marth paled visibly, but did his best to appear unconcerned and happy with the prospect of going through a park, alone with Ike.

Ike, noticing his friend's discomfort for once, leaned close as they walked to inquire in a soft tone, "Mariko, are you afraid of trees?"

Marth, though he had tensed as Ike had come closer, immediately burst into startled laughter at the question, condensing it into giggles once he remembered to. "Hehe… I… ehehehe… no, I… trees are fine, I don't mind them."

"Oh. Well. I just thought you looked kinda… scared. For a second there." Ike looked incredibly sheepish. "Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

"No, it was… funny. Thanks." Marth hesitated on the foreign word, not used to describing things in such sparse and common language as with the single word 'funny'.

"No problem." Ike flashed him a thumbs-up sign, and then relaxed once more with a smile. "I was hoping you weren't scared of parks or anything."

Marth, now somehow assured that Ike was not the swordsman of his dreams, however strange that sounded, found new relief in walking beside his friend. This boy could not possibly have any interest whatsoever in hurting him. On the other hand… what was to be said about the other part of the dream?

Ike smiled at him brightly, and his stomach squirmed suddenly, in sympathy for his cringing thoughts. Ike most definitely liked him. He wasn't oblivious enough not to notice it. But that didn't mean he was going to let on that he knew. No, indeed. That would be an absolute disaster. Best to play it safe and remain friends, since Ike was such a… nice guy… anyway. That's right, a really nice guy.

They reached the park some fifteen minutes later, and Marth was luckily not at all tired due to his daily exercise and fencing practice, which allowed him a lot of stamina when it came to things like walking. Ike, likewise, most likely had the benefit of frequent kendo practices to keep him fit, and was also fine at the pace they were traveling.

Nothing happened to cause Marth any concern, and for a while it was calming, walking beside Ike through the serene park, its brilliant green, leafy scenery not at all reminiscent of the grey trees of his nightmare. All the while, he caught Ike smiling at him, in that completely open way he had, unafraid of anything, apparently not even of possible rejection later on.

They were almost to a beautiful water fountain, a large one in the middle of the park, when they were ambushed, and the lovely, almost romantic – in a different situation – scene was interrupted by three very annoying schoolgirls, still, like Marth, in their silly uniforms, and still very irritated at him.

"Hey! Stop right there!" Girl #1's voice rang out through their section of the park, and Marth recognized it, and dutifully turned around, steeling himself for the worst.

"Yeah, stop!" Girl #2 seconded, and the last one shushed her like usual.

"Shh!"

"What's going on here?" Ike interceded smoothly but with total confusion.

"You shouldn't be hanging around with her, she's a total slut!" Girl #1 spouted the garbage as if the act was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she actually believed the words she was saying.

"Yeah, that's what she is!" Girl #2 agreed loudly.

"Yeah, we know all about it!" Girl #3 piped up, for once getting into the heat of the conversation with the other two.

Marth went completely red, not all embarrassment but also from an inner, fiery anger that had sparked from the bold, outrageous things they were saying about him, that they were telling _Ike _about him.

"Excuse me, but that was not necessary, and I am not a-" Marth protested before he was unceremoniously, without warning, shoved straight into the water fountain by the first girl.

"You bitch! I can see it, you just want him for yourself and you're trying to act all innocent like… like… yeah!" Girl #1 was so triumphant in her fury that she could barely get the words out.

Marth sat there, the water up to his shoulders in the once-impressive fountain, and panicked. He wasn't able to hear what Ike was saying to the three, and he couldn't hear their replies beyond the vague, echoing screeches of outrage. He barely noticed as they fled the scene shamefully, and Ike turned back to him. All he could feel was water, on him everywhere, and the coldness it brought with it, soaking his clothes right through.

When he stood up, all his garments would cling to his body, limp with absorbed water, and anyone with eyes would be able to tell he was not really a high school girl. He had no hips, no chest, no curves of any sort, no cute tiny waist, nothing. What the school uniform's large sailor collar and generous width hid would be as good as exposed.

He almost started crying, such was the hopelessness of his situation now, but he knew that in a few moments, Ike would know what he was, and Marth was loathe to introduce himself properly as a sobbing, distressed boy found out as a cross-dresser.

"Are you okay?" Ike asked concernedly, offering his hand to help Marth out of the water, and the prince couldn't refuse, couldn't stand up for his own sake and say straight out, 'all right, the truth is now known, and I am, in fact, a boy.'

"Y-yes." He said instead, and took Ike's hand, which lifted him clear out of the fountain set him down on his feet, trailing water all the way.

Ike paused, his hand lingering on the prince's, and a strange expression came over his face as he took in 'Mariko's' soaked clothing. That expression was all Marth needed to confirm his expectations. Ike knew. He _knew_.

Ike, at that moment, opened his mouth to say something, but Marth didn't want to hear the questions, and instead interjected with, "I can explain…"

"It's all right, I understand." Ike said calmly, removing his hand at last. "I should take you home, you're soaked."

"That's kind of you, but I'll be fine." Marth tried to cut their interaction short, hoping that, if Ike had really understood, that he was not going to bother him. At least he knew his friend wouldn't be telling everyone at school about it, like some girls who shall not be mentioned. Although that wasn't the same because what they were saying wasn't even true…

"No, this is my fault, so I want to make it up to you." Ike pressed on, for some reason shouldering the blame despite there being little reason for him to be the guilty one.

"… All right." Marth conceded, sensing that he could not shake off Ike from doing his solemn duty, however disgusted he had to be at what he had just found out about the girl he liked.

The walk to the train station was a long one, and at first Marth had been extremely apprehensive to going anywhere with his clothes soaked through, since even the normally-oblivious Ike had seen through his disguise at that point. However, Ike had been so kind as to dig out a light jacket from his bag for him, and had offered it with a sympathetic look. Marth had just about died from that expression, cast upon his royal person, since he had never deserved a pitying look before that point in any situation. But nevertheless, he had taken the jacket and was now wearing it over his wet shirt, and its bulkiness hid his body satisfactorily.

But, as they sat on the train together, Marth still could not retract his anxiety, fear that Ike was only doing this last favor because he didn't want to look like a bad guy, and would feel less awkwardness, consequently, about abandoning Mariko afterwards. Because surely, that was what Ike was prepared to do. After all, few boys his age would be able to maturely handle the situation and progress through learning this monstrous secret without turning tail and running. And as much as he trusted Ike, he was positive that the high school senior would not be able to take the pressure of knowing such a strange and awkward secret, and would therefore choose to forget everything.

"Mariko…?" Ike asked tentatively, as the train stopped for the third time. "This is your stop, right? Abenomachi?"

"Oh, yes, that's right." Marth said hurriedly, getting to his feet. He was about to tell Ike not to worry about him, since his friend's stop was the one after this anyway, but had a sudden idea, one that could solve certain issues.

What if he invited Ike to his house, on the pretext of dinner or something like that, and settled the questions there? That way, he could be sure of Ike's intentions and could also warn his friend of speaking of the subject to anyone. It would also give the prince a chance to explain himself, as he did not want Ike thinking that he was some sort of strange kid who was under the impression that he was a girl.

With this now settled, Marth made no move to stop Ike from escorting him off the train and towards his house. The only difficulty now would be asking him to stay for dinner. Should he ask now, as they were walking, or would it be better to wait until they were at the door? Perhaps he could just invite his friend inside, and then talk to him after that, and at some point glance casually at the clock and exclaim that it was almost dinner time, and wouldn't it be nice if he could stay and enjoy the wonderful home-cooking of Bodyguard #1?

Unfortunately, the fact that he lived with two bodyguards did not make that last situation very appealing. Come to think of it, since Ike would be meeting them instead of the presumed parents, it would be necessary to tell him everything. Not a mere shallow excuse for the truth, but the entire mess of a situation, the root of the problem. Alas, it had indeed come to this.

They reached Marth's house before he could decide when to ask Ike to stay, so as they approached the door, he turned to Ike nervously with the intention of asking just that. "Oh, I was wondering… if you might… stay for dinner? You went to the trouble of escorting me home, therefore I–"

"That sounds fine to me." Ike said with a nod, but he still looked almost as nervous as Marth did, and Marth knew the reason, of course. But at least his plan was going on without difficulty.

They went inside, and the two bodyguards, having not anticipated a visitor, came to greet him dressed in their suits and sunglasses, looking very intimidating indeed. Ike looked stunned as the two men went over to Marth and welcomed him home, all the while glancing at Ike with their shaded eyes.

"Ike, these are my bodyguards. I apologize for not forewarning you of their presence, but I was rather caught up in everything else that was going on." Marth said hastily, motioning to the two of them to take off their sunglasses, which they did.

"It is a pleasure to meet Mr. Ike, of which we have heard numerous praises." Bodyguard #1 smiled, and luckily he had a countenance easily adapted to either intimidation or comfort, so that he actually put Ike more at ease.

"Indeed, it is nice to meet you." Bodyguard #2 also greeted Ike with warmth, and immediately went into caretaker mode. "Would you like something to drink? Tea?"

"Uh, okay." Ike answered, still at a loss to explain to himself why Mariko, who lived in a very middle-class house and went to a completely common school, could possibly have bodyguards.

Bodyguard #1 meanwhile indulged his own curiosity by asking Marth, "So what brings us the pleasure of Mr. Ike's company? Is he to stay for dinner?"

"He is." Marth began, but his long-suffering expression revealed to the bodyguard that this was not the real reason. "However, I brought him here in the first place because he knows."

"What? So soon? But Your Highness, I was under the impression that the plan was going quite smoothly…?" Bodyguard #1 said in surprise, looking over at Ike. "Don't tell me you-"

"That's quite enough curiosity." Marth cut him off irritably. "No, I was pushed into a fountain by a few… less-than-well-meaning girls."

Bodyguard #1 managed to stifle laughter but could not help his lips twitching upwards into a near smile at the thought of jealous high school girls pushing the prince into some fountain somewhere. "Oh… is that so…?"

"Yes." Marth said sharply. "Now I shall have to explain everything, lest he think I have some sort of mental fixation on becoming the other gender."

Ike, meanwhile, was now completely confused, and Bodyguard #1 decided to remedy this by including their guest in the conversation.

"So, Mr. Ike, it seems you have, on accident, discovered the secret which the young master has been trying so hard to conceal." He lamented, conversationally. "I suppose that must be a bit of a shock."

"Er… yes…" Ike stumbled, looking at Marth with entirely puzzled eyes. "But I didn't think it was true at first…"

"Well, I must admit that the young master makes a very lovely girl, but believe me, he is not by nature nearly as effeminate as he seems." Bodyguard #1 continued casually, for once ignoring the wishes of his charge, who, it seemed, greatly disliked being talked of in such a casual tone.

That was when Ike apparently understood everything. "WHAT?"

Bodyguard #2 peered around the corner of the kitchen area as he heard the exclamation. Bodyguard #1 fixed Ike with a slightly confused expression.

Marth blinked.

And Ike, now understanding, looked at Marth with a sort of dawning comprehension. "You… You're really a boy?"

Marth, having thought that Ike had long since come to terms with this, confirmed the thought. "Yes, I thought you noticed when I got out of… the… fountain…"

And then everything came crashing down upon Marth, whose face turned pale, and upon whose countenance was visited a sort of dread that only such situations can inspire. "Ike… don't tell me… you didn't know…? Before this?"

Ike's mouth moved, open and closed, and finally he choked out, "When he," he motioned to the bodyguard, "asked me if I knew the secret, I thought he meant the… what those girls were saying about you!"

Marth stopped himself from sinking to the floor in a dead faint, for that was a thing he would never forgive himself for doing, but his expression showed his wish to do just that. "Oh no… I assumed that he… I thought… but all this time he had no suspicions!"

The bodyguards both moved away from the scene to give the two very confused teenagers a chance to resolve their misunderstanding, but Ike and Marth just stood there, exchanging shocked expressions, each thinking more-or-less the same thing.

'_I can't believe he didn't know I was a boy…!'_

'_I can't believe she's a boy…!'_

* * *


	6. Chapter 5

**Edit: **Much thanks to Blarghies for noticing that the girls were referring to him as 'Marth' instead of 'Mariko'. I'm so glad you caught that - I had no idea!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Marth at last managed to come to his senses long enough to realize that, in another moment, he would most likely lose those same senses a second time if he didn't act accordingly. Therefore, in order to make the situation somewhat easier on himself, he immediately decided to give himself more of an advantage in the believability department – this meant changing clothes. After all, he was, at present, dressed in a damp schoolgirl uniform, with Ike's rather large jacket zipped up over his sailor top. Not a very dignified way to continue such a confusing conversation, where his own dignity was already lacking.

"Forgive me, but I must excuse myself for a moment to take care of this," The prince gestured to his untidy clothing with a frown, face still pale.

"R… right." Ike managed to say, shifting uneasily and apparently attempting to calm himself by folding his arms and looking serious.

Marth left for the upstairs, and heard Bodyguard #2 at last come out from the kitchen to offer Ike a cup of tea. How absurd. Really, tea, at a time like this!

As soon as he reached his room, he made no effort to conceal his nearly panic-stricken expression, nor his haste to change out of those wretched, female clothes, which besides being unbearably girly were also wet against his skin. He suddenly detested his effeminate appearance with a passion, brought on by the recent events, not only because it was the cause of this tangled yarn of concealed identity and artificial personality, but due to the way it had greatly complicated his friendship with Ike.

He had managed to wriggle out of the skirt, jacket, and sailor top with surprising efficiency that he was unfortunately not in a state of mind to appreciate, and now he searched through his drawers, digging beneath the façade of female clothing in the drawers to reveal the boy's clothing that he was much more comfortable in. Without hesitation or any real decisions he slipped into a pair of dark slacks – not noticing the exact color – and a dark turtle-neck that probably should have been too warm for the season, except for their severe air-conditioning.

Glancing in the mirror as he was about to leave the room, Marth suddenly gaped in uncharacteristic chagrin, and seized the offending headband from where it was, in his hair, sabotaging his change into manly clothes. With that out of the way, he nodded in satisfaction, and was once again ready to leave the room when he noticed something was amiss that he had almost slipped past his search.

Make-up. Very, very girly make-up. And it was coming off. Now.

Only minutes later, the by-now-frustrated-and-temperamental prince rushed downstairs, only to stop halfway down the staircase and slow significantly, intent on making a good second first impression on his friend, this time as the crown prince of Altea, or perhaps, at this point, just Marth, a _boy_.

As it happened, Ike was not still in the front hall by that time, so Marth had to follow the sound of the older boy's voice to its source: the kitchen. He turned the corner into the homely room to see Ike talking to Bodyguard #1 quite animatedly, as if he had completely accepted the matter and was prepared to do his part to conceal the established secret.

And then Ike, having heard footsteps, turned slowly in his chair, and his eyes alighted on Marth and widened in something close to awe. The world slowed as the prince entered the room, graceful as royalty should be, and somehow framed in the soft light that came through the sole window of the kitchen. Some sort of strange feeling spread throughout the room, perceptible even to the two bodyguards, who exchanged looks with great interest.

Ike, however, could not have been distracted from Marth had a flaming meteor crashed into the house next door. He had closed his mouth, but it still felt as though it was growing dry, as if it the sight of the princely visage had taken more than his breath away. It was with this sort of stupefied wonder that Ike beheld the prince at last, not even knowing that a prince it was, only aware that this person, this _boy_, was somehow more devastatingly beautiful even than his female counterpart, beyond all realms of logic.

As Marth crossed the short distance towards the table, he, too, could not remove his gaze from Ike, for his friend wore an expression of pure surprise, with an added hint of something else, almost like reverence. In this way, the prince came to be thankful of his natural grace, for without it he surely would have managed to trip over his own feet at the look Ike was giving him, like he was a stunning diamond found in a desolate cave, among lichen and moss and other uninteresting life forms.

At last, he had stopped, several feet from his friend, and stood there with a feeling of utmost awkwardness. When Ike still did not cease his staring, he knew he had to do something to scatter the mists of confused surprise from the room.

"I'm sorry for my absence…" He began to apologize, but was cut off by Ike, who had stood up and was suddenly right in front of him, gazing down at him in the same unnerving fashion.

"You really are…" Ike said with uncomfortable comprehension. "And yet, you're so… beautiful…" He raised a hand, as if intending to touch the other and assure himself of the reality, but lowered it, and then blushed slightly at himself.

Marth's former exasperation fled the scene, replaced by a sort of twisting sensation of relief and fluttering hopefulness, making him feel as if he was waiting for something, and yet could not tell himself what that was. He compensated for his foreign emotions by trying to reply in a very dignified way to Ike's comment.

"I… thank you." He stumbled, and could scarcely believe the overpowering feeling coursing through him, some type of cold, shivering anticipation that left him almost speechless, especially seeing as how Ike did not appear to be moving away at all. In fact, it looked like he was coming closer, leaning in slowly, stunned expression fading into a dimmer curiosity. A very similar curiosity to the swordsman in his nightmares.

"There is much I have to discuss with you, unfortunately," Marth said abruptly, steeling himself and intimidating his face with morbid mental threats lest it get any ideas and start blushing, as it recently had begun to enjoy doing. "Please, sit down."

Ike, though a little confused by Marth's new voice – not so much an entirely new sound but another tone, more serious and formal than that of Mariko – went back to his seat obediently, with the unspoken promise of a more thorough explanation. As Marth knew well, the bodyguards had left the more important matter in his hands, and had spent the few minutes of the prince's absence with trivial small talk designed to help Ike feel less overwhelmed by the secret he had, completely on accident, discovered only minutes ago.

Marth could see that all their work had been demolished simply by his walking into the room, for reasons he couldn't understand. Suddenly the calm and collected Ike had once again turned anxious, and, as the prince sat down in a chair across from him, seemed to avoid looking at him, as though making up for his earlier, constant gaze.

"Now that you know about this," Marth began awkwardly, doing his best to seem like he was in control of his emotions. "I am obliged to explain everything to you."

Ike nodded, eyes sliding to look at Marth only briefly before he settled them on the table instead. At least he had finished blushing, else the bodyguards get more ideas than they already had.

"All I ask of you," Marth began quietly, feeling timid at the prospect of having Ike drawn into his situation as a trusted person, someone who would know him at a deeper level than anyone else. "Is that you do not repeat any of this, not to anyone. And of course, that you do not reveal my true identity."

Ike, apparently sensing that this was a matter of true importance, suddenly looked up, and straight into Marth's eyes as he nodded. "Of course."

Marth, unable to escape Ike's overwhelmingly azure eyes, prepared his explanation despite his stomach's insistence on squirming in a very uncomfortable fashion. "I will be brief: I am in hiding due to the contested state of the throne of Altea. It is my home country, and I…"

He paused, swallowed nervously, and went on, Ike's eyes still boring into his unknowingly, with an expression that went deeper than mere seriousness. "I am Marth, the crown prince of Altea, and it is now my duty to stay here, away from danger, in disguise."

"Then, that disguise…" Ike interjected with a sudden gift of words, but then trailed off, realizing he could have been rudely interrupting a very important person.

"Is Mariko." Marth finished, their gazes still entwined, and they were the only two in the room. That was the feeling it carried with it, but at that moment he happened to glance back at the bodyguards, and realized that they really were alone in the room. His caretakers had left them alone.

And now he was ensnared in those eyes again, and Ike spoke. "So then, that's why you were a girl. I mean, disguised. As Mariko."

"Yes. And…" Marth hesitated, and, sensing that the two bodyguards had most likely left the vicinity entirely, went on in a softer and apologetic tone. "… I'm truly sorry to have imposed on you. I never meant for anyone to learn of this."

"I don't mind," Ike said hastily, desperate to be sure the prince did not think that he was troubled overly by the day's events. "Really, don't worry about it."

"It is more-or-less my duty to worry about it, unfortunately." Marth contradicted with a hint of weariness, not at Ike but at his own circumstances. "But I'm glad that I have not imposed too much upon you, if you say that."

"What are you going to do now?" Ike asked without warning, steering the conversation from the bounds of a sincere apology and explanation to battle plans. "You know, since I know… you don't have to move somewhere else, right?"

"No, that might attract attention." Marth said, and was plagued by a tired sort of ready-to-give-up feeling, almost causing him to slip up and tell Ike everything, really everything this time, but he managed to stop himself.

"Well then, you're just going to keep going like before?" Ike inquired, slight curiosity engulfed with sympathy, and caught Marth's eyes in his again.

"Yes." Marth replied simply, and tried to leave it at that.

But then Ike said the one thing that could have, at that moment, turned Marth's plans into so many scorched cinders.

"I could help you."

* * *

That night Marth dreamed of something much more terrifying than a heartless swordsman, even more terrifying than a heartless swordsman violating him out of morbid curiosity. He dreamed of Ike, the real world's Ike, just as if it was something that had really happened. And the Ike of this dream was so very kind, so very loving that it seemed much worse than when it had been a stranger kissing him.

Instead of bruising, violent kisses he received gentle ones, afraid-to-shatter-glass kisses that had him trembling. Instead of a cold, unfeeling pillar at his back he had grass, soft grass, like wispy clouds of green. Instead of rough hands on him there were warm ones, caressing and not shoving. Always it was gentleness, never rushing him, but taking his time, slowly and slowly showing him the sort of scenario he would see if it really had been Ike.

And that made it so much worse. He could stand seeing an emotionless stone of a swordsman doing those things to him, without his consent. He could then refute the reality of such a nightmare, telling himself it could never happen. But he could not deny that _this _dream, portraying his friend in what seemed like complete accuracy, was not impossible. It was a definite possibility, and that was what made it so much worse.

Marth would not be able to look at him today, not without remembering those feather-soft touches, nor those eyes brimming with never-hidden passion. Those eyes, always so open, would never hesitate to remind him of what could be. In the world of dreams, it could be said to have already happened.

* * *

"I _hate _dreaming…" Marth muttered to himself as he sat up in bed, pushing off the covers irritably and rubbing the excess sleep from his eyes. A few moments passed in which he allowed himself to gain full control of his senses and limbic system, and then, at last, he rose from the bed, now completely conscious. And somewhat less annoyed in general.

Thursday. A terrible day, in his opinion. Just one day away from Friday, the last school day in the week, and yet Thursday managed to fail utterly at being a good day. Marth had never, in his records, experienced a good Thursday. Even Thursday evenings weren't as relaxing as they should have been, though the almost-Friday's light should have warmed them greatly. Thursday was a terrible day, and that was that.

Marth dared Thursday to prove him wrong, but unfortunately he did so with little enthusiasm, and consequently Thursday was not at all impressed, and in fact decided to have its much-needed vengeance on the young prince, who had scorned Thursdays practically all his short life, and greatly needed to be taught a lesson. Today would be an extremely horrible day, if Thursday had any say in the matter. And, as a matter of fact, it did.

The first thing that went wrong was when Marth found out that he had run out of his favorite chapstick. Now, this might sound rather silly – the prince having a favorite chapstick, that is – but it so happened that he only liked it as a lesser of two evils. It was either chapstick or lip gloss on school days, and he couldn't have hated lip gloss more if it had killed both his parents when he was a child. Which, of course, it hadn't.

Anyway, Marth's chapstick was either gone or missing in action, so he was forced to apply the ever-disgusting lip gloss that left him with a perpetual feeling of smeared ice-cream on his lips. This was something that, naturally, made him more indisposed towards life in general, and it was made worse with the rest of the things that happened that morning.

He had somehow forgotten to launder his uniform after it had gotten wet, so he had to run downstairs, dressed in the pajama shorts and tank top he had for some reason worn last night – had it really been that hot in the evening? – in order to get Bodyguard #2 to get the clothes laundered as quickly as possible. He had gotten a raised eyebrow, both at his unusually casual appearance and at his uncharacteristic absent-mindedness.

As if all that wasn't enough, he couldn't find the headband he wanted to wear, and had to settle, instead, on one that he didn't like much at all – red and white plaid. The only consolation he had, at that point, was that his schoolbag was packed correctly, and he was not missing anything else of importance.

But then Bodyguard #2, after handing Marth his freshly cleaned uniform, told him apologetically that they had little time left before they had to leave the premises in order to get to school on time, and the prince was forced to rush upstairs, dress in a flurry of girly clothes, and hop out the door without breakfast, without so much as a glass of water.

As he sat down in the car and started breathing again at last, Prince Marth was in quite a state. Yes, his outward appearance was immaculate as always, but inside he was furious at Thursday for being so nasty to him, and besides that his stomach was going to start growling soon, and lunch – luckily, he had lunch packed, but could not appreciate this fact at present – was a long time away.

All in all, he could rightfully conclude that this Thursday was possibly the worst in the history of all Thursdays, with the exception of the Thursday on which he was told of this whole plan, this 'Prince Marth disguises himself as a girl and goes to high school in an inconspicuous area of Japan' plan. Now _that _Thursday was unbeatable in its horror, and virtually nothing that could happen today could possibly be worse than –

He glanced at the car's clock and realized he was going to be late for first class.

* * *

At lunchtime, Marth gratefully took out his lunch and unwrapped the onigiri with a starved haste, before remembering his manners – or rather, his supposed gender – and telling himself to be patient. After that, he proceeded to eat his food with dignity at as fast a pace as he could manage said task, which was to say, not very fast at all. But at least his stomach had now ceased growling, and the day had gotten much brighter, metaphorically, since he was now fed.

And then he saw the three girls coming towards him from across the hall, and he was forced to flee to the restroom, where he locked himself inside a stall and stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. To his lasting surprise and thankfulness, they seemed confused when they came into the restroom looking for him, and then left with much grumbling.

'_How about we set up a deal, Thursday?' _Marth thought to himself with a touch of something like hopefulness. _'If you prove me wrong, I will never again think of you as the worst day of the week. How is that for an offer?'_

Thursday, of course, did not answer, mostly because it was contemplating this interesting 'deal' that the prince had come up with. After a moment, it shrugged, which the prince could also not hear, and then it began to make plans to improve Marth's day tenfold. Unfortunately, Marth had no idea that Thursday really didn't understand him at all, and hence Thursday's plans for Marth were not exactly as wonderful as they were intended to be.

* * *

When school let out, Marth managed to find Ike quickly enough, and felt like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders when he first saw Ike's spiky blue hair through the throng of other students.

"Ike!" He called out tentatively, wondering whether this kind of thing was _done_ or not. Apparently it was, because Ike turned and headed over to him through the crowd, which parted helpfully for the renowned kendo captain.

"M-Mariko." Ike greeted him happily, but with a tinge of nervousness, especially obvious with his stumbling speech. "So, uh, how are… you…?"

"As well as I can be." Marth answered truthfully, and then habitually asked the same of Ike. "How are you?"

"Great! I mean, uh… fine." Ike blushed at his exclamation, and then gestured to Marth to follow him. "Can we head over to the vending machines?"

"I see no problem with that." Marth said hesitantly, searching his mind for any possible reason why going with Ike to the vending machines could be a bad idea. _'You had better know what you're doing, Thursday. I'm placing my faith in you.'_

When they reached the vending machines, Ike politely asked if Marth wanted anything, and, when the prince formally declined, got only a small soda for himself. Marth saw that it was lime-flavored, because he was trying to look at anything but Ike since they had begun walking and he had been reminded forcefully of his recent dream.

Ike, oblivious as always, had no idea that Marth was this nervous around him, which was good, because at the rate that Marth seemed to change moods around him, it would have baffled him trying to keep up.

"So, uh, are you –" What would have been the start of a very awkward conversation – courtesy of Ike – was cut off by the entrance of three very unwanted guests.

"Oh. My. God. Tell me they're not sharing a soda!" Girl #1 stepped into view, previously having been hiding behind a corner.

"They so totally are!" Girl #2 confirmed jealously.

"Shh!" That, of course, was Girl #3.

"Were you three… watching us?" Ike asked with as much suspicion as he could muster, not being capable of many negative feelings in the first place besides possibly guilt.

"It's for your own good!" Girl #1 defended herself with much vigor, actually walking over to the two of them, trailed by her two lackeys. "Can't you see?"

"Yeah, for your own good!" Girl #2 echoed stubbornly.

"Shh…" Girl #3 seemed to be getting awfully tired of this pattern.

"Listen," Ike began, and tried to look as serious as possible – difficult, because there were three high school girls in front of him trying to look threatening, and he felt guilty at the thought of frightening them. "I'd really like it if you three would… er… find another hobby or something."

"Perhaps knitting." Marth added in an undertone, quiet enough that no one heard him.

"Rrrrrrrrgh! He's not listening at all!" Girl #1 seemed infuriated by this simple conclusion, and gestured wildly to her companions. "Execute plan A!"

Suddenly, Marth found himself surrounded by the two not-at-all intimidating schoolgirls. He was about to finally muster the nerve to fight them off when he was thrust into some kind of cleaning closet. Before he could gather his wits, he felt himself being painfully shoved against the wall by another person who had been forced into the closet, and then all was black.

"Hey! What are you-" Ike stopped short of a full sentence as he heard the lock. Why was it that these doors locked from the outside, anyway? It was ridiculous.

"… Ike?" Marth gasped for breath, between some kind of storage shelf and Ike in an extremely small janitor's closet, in nearly complete darkness, and not getting as much air in his cramped position as he would have liked.

"Ah, sorry!" Ike apologized, and attempted to back away, but could not due to the lack of space, and then tried searching for anything of use, but due to the darkness his hands fell on nothing particularly helpful – a shelf, Marth ("Oops, sorry…"), a shelf again, a wall, a light switch, a wall, a… wait…

Ike flicked the light switch, and a dim light on the low ceiling lit up, a dull orange glow that illuminated the space and possibly made the situation even worse.

Their gazes connected in the most embarrassing way as they acknowledged how they were pressed against each other in the small space, and Marth hurriedly looked away to try and find anywhere to move, but was rewarded with nothing. There was nowhere to go.

"Er… wait, I have an idea." Ike began thoughtfully, and Marth thought he heard a bit of panic in his friend's voice as well. "Wait, let me…"

Ike's vague 'idea' did not inspire much faith in Marth, but he let Ike try to look around him for whatever he was looking for, and then he let Ike put strong arms around him, and – what?

"Ike?" Marth questioned, dumbstruck and hoping that Ike was not seriously attempting to make any sort of advance on him in this sort of situation.

"I think that shelf behind you – it's kinda low – is sturdy enough to hold you, okay?" Ike explained quickly, trying to get a better grip on Marth.

"You're going to… lift me up and set me on that shelf?" Marth asked, mouth drying out rapidly in fear and who knew what else.

"Right." Ike nodded determinedly, and then wasted no time in hoisting the prince up and onto the low shelf-like object, more of a stack of box-like shelves than anything. "Okay, maybe it'll hold you…?"

He hesitantly let go of the prince, and when nothing crashed down, he took his arms away entirely, somewhat triumphant. "There! Now there's more room."

He was partially right. There was 'more' room. But that only accounted for about a foot of extra distance between them, and now Marth was feeling even more helpless, sitting on top of the cratelike shelf at eye level with Ike.

"That was… a good idea." Marth commented out of necessity, and tried to smile.

Ike was unaware of Marth's valiant attempt at friendliness, however, because he was now trying to get the door open. "There's gotta be a way to get out of here… I can't believe they actually – I mean, I could have stopped them, but I didn't realize they were going to… oh, blast it! This isn't working."

It was the first unhappy exclamation Marth had heard from Ike, and it actually amused him, in a way, to know that the swordsman could have any other mood than cheerful. "I don't suppose we're going to be able to get out?"

"Doesn't look like it." Ike lamented, spirits sinking. "We'll have to wait for someone to either come looking for us or a broom."

'_I'm betting on the broom,' _Marth thought to himself with a sigh, knowing that his bodyguards, though they were supposed to look after him, tended to be so very positive about life that they didn't actually worry too much, and hence would think, if he didn't show up tonight, that he had gone over to Ike's house and hadn't informed them.

* * *

Meanwhile, the three girls had scampered away from the scene of the crime, and were catching their breath at the train station, having missed their usual time by quite a bit.

"Oh. My. God! You two are SO stupid!" Girl #1 screeched at them both, arms flailing like venomous snakes. "I told you to lock Mariko in the closet by _herself_, not with IKE!"

"But… wouldn't Ike have just unlocked the closet and let her out?" Girl #2 asked dubiously, having forgotten the exact instructions of Plan A at the time.

Girl #3 nodded absently, thinking that this surely would have been the case, and therefore the original plan had been greatly flawed.

They were both startled by Girl #1's violent outburst. "Of course not! He would have listened to us, and with Mariko out of the way, I – we – could have had him all to ourselves!"

Girl #2 gave Girl #3 a stupefied glance, which was returned with exasperation.

"So we weren't supposed to put Ike in the closet, too?" Girl #2 inquired carefully, but not carefully enough.

"Of course NOT!" Their leader shrieked, so upset that she buried her face in her hands with great dramatic value. "Now they're going to be in there for hours, and do you know what that bitch is going to do? Huh!?"

"You think she's a cannibal?" Girl #2's eyebrows flew up into her hairline, and she unconsciously took a step backwards.

"NO!" Girl #1 sobbed melodramatically, playing this scene at its greatest possible level of loudness. "She's going to _seduce _him, and b-by the time someone f-f-finds them it'll be … too… t-too late!"

* * *

"What now?" Ike wondered aloud, ever the more talkative of the two of them.

"It seems we must wait for some indeterminate span of time." Marth pointed out the obvious with a sigh.

"No, I mean, what are we gonna do until then?" Ike looked at him with a completely naïve helplessness, close to extreme boredom.

Marth, without warning, flushed at the way Ike was looking at him, though it wasn't that the look itself was anything unusual. It was that ridiculous dream putting thoughts into his head that did it, but regardless, Ike was not _that _oblivious.

"I mean, you're not really a girl, so it's not like I'm going to start making out with you or anything." Ike meandered pointlessly, not even noticing Marth's surprised and somewhat embarrassed expression that was forcibly changed into mild discomfort.

Ike _was _oblivious.

"Unless you told me you were a boy so that I wouldn't suspect your _real _identity, like… like a double agent or something!" Ike thought aloud enthusiastically.

"Ike, that's ridiculous. And you already know I'm not a girl." Marth was tempted to just put his hand over his face in shame rather than face the next hour or more talking with Ike about such subjects.

"Well, yeah, I know." Ike said quietly, enthusiasm deflated. "You can't blame me for hoping, though."

Marth, being much more observant than Ike, saw the flicker of disappointment in his friend's eyes as Ike looked away, and knew exactly what he was thinking. "Ike…"

Ike glanced back at him abruptly, smile in place, and Marth faltered, but went on despite his instincts telling him it was a bad idea to bring up such a topic.

"You… liked Mariko… didn't you?" Marth put the question to him carefully, besides the blunt delivery, and saw Ike's look of utter surprise and knew he had assumed correctly.

"W-well, I, er… I mean…" Ike scratched his head and looked at the ground for help. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." Marth apologized awkwardly, feeling somewhat guilty, for reasons too complicated to sort out right at that moment.

Ike shrugged and then seemed to brighten up gradually. "But… I like you, too, Marth."

Marth blinked, stunned.

"Wait, no, I mean, I didn't-" Ike hastily tried to erase his words as a blush stained his cheeks, burnt in the orange light. "You know what I mean. Right?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course." Marth unwound from his daze with a feeling in his stomach of discontent, almost the pain of disappointment. But of course, that was ridiculous.

"So…" Ike veered off the topic with a determination that was admirable. "I guess since we're stuck here, this is kinda like bonding time?"

"Bonding… time…?" Marth echoed blankly, mind jumping to the wrong conclusions, more to the effect of 'bondage' before realizing it was not the same word at all.

"Yeah, you know, like in those movies where people are stuck somewhere so they get to know each other…? That kinda thing." Ike explained, back to his usual cheerful self.

Marth frowned for a moment, trying to recall any movies like the ones Ike was describing. "I understand now, I think. You're saying that this is a good time for small talk?"

"Well, no, not really. More like, I dunno…" Ike scratched his head, perplexed, and finally settled on a solution that satisfied him. "Look, why don't we just do it instead of talking about it?"

Marth attempted another smile, feeling as if this was what he was supposed to do, and said, "All right." After all, Ike seemed to think that this 'bondage' – excuse me, 'bonding' – business would be beneficial to both of them, and far be it from him to deny it when he himself knew nothing of the subject.

Around two hours later (by Marth's vague estimation), they had covered countless topics of conversation, from favorite foods to future job occupations, and had just now, after a while of almost avoiding the subject, gotten back to the dreaded left-in-the-dark topic of Marth and crossdressing.

"So you have to dress like that whenever you leave the house? That must be tough…" Ike brought the subject back from the grave, connecting to it from an unwisely placed statement of female clothing brands made by Marth a moment before.

"I am used to it, fortunately." Marth admitted with a sense of deep shame at his own deflated masculinity.

"You mean you used to dress like that before you came here in disguise?" Ike asked curiously, oddly open to the topic of crossdressing. But then again, Ike seemed to be open to all manner of discussion, because he was Ike, and anything was better than cold silence.

"No, I… I was forced to practice a great deal in the summer, in order to play my part convincingly." Marth winced at Ike's easy assumption – how could his friend think that a prince would spend his time crossdressing for pure _enjoyment_? – but inwardly forgave him.

"Oh." Ike nodded, interested, and then commented, "Well you sure are convincing, so it must have worked!"

"Thank you…" Marth replied automatically, but with a sense that he was sealing his own doom.

"I mean… the other girls seem really jealous of you, don't they?" Ike meandered thoughtfully. "Probably because of your good looks. And me."

Marth, although startled by Ike hinting at the girls' idea about the two of them, nevertheless replied sincerely. "I believe it is more about you than my appearance."

Ike seemed troubled by this statement, being that he was easily disposed towards guilt. "I didn't mean to get you into all this-"

"It's not your fault, Ike." Marth interrupted smoothly, gently, and hoped that Ike would forget he had ever said it. Ike didn't.

"No, really, I think you're right about what they're after," Ike insisted vigilantly, unconsciously taking a step closer in the process, as if to further convince Marth.

Marth was very well convinced by Ike's proximity, which Ike noticed after he had been standing right in front of him for a few moments, at which point he backed off slightly, but not as much as he could have. This almost insignificant detail caused Marth considerable nervousness, making him wonder just what Ike was thinking at that moment.

Fortunately, what Ike was thinking at that moment was quickly revealed to Marth, since Ike always spoke his mind, and chose to do so once again. "I could pretend to dump you, and then maybe they'd go away…?"

Marth's heart stopped beating for a few seconds, after which he couldn't stop himself from looking back at Ike with the helplessness of a newborn kitten, although not nearly as adorably. "But I…"

Ike looked slightly confused, as if he was figuring something out that he had never anticipated being possible. "Marth, are you saying you…"

"No…!" Marth denied vehemently, and almost truthfully, because he had been about to say something to the meaning of 'but we're friends and I don't have any others' before he was interrupted. "Ike… you are a great friend, and… I would… miss your presence."

"What?" Ike blinked, dumbstruck. "I didn't mean we wouldn't be friends. I just thought if we told everyone we weren't together anymore, they'd leave us alone."

Marth, more out of relief than humor, laughed abruptly, awkwardly, and explained to poor Ike, who seemed to have even less knowledge of high school drama than himself. "I don't think they would leave us alone… in fact, those three seem fixed in their belief that we are… an 'item', so they say… and even if you declared our break-up openly, they wouldn't be convinced if I kept talking to you. And I… do want to keep talking to you."

"Hmmm…" Ike stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That's really difficult to get around."

Marth, having foreseen said difficulty since the first meeting with the three girls, only nodded with emotional weariness, begging Thursday to make this easier somehow, to solve all of his problems with sparkly magic fairy dust.

At that moment, as if he had been forcefully doused with a generous handful of sparkly magic fairy dust, Ike brightened up and suddenly took Marth by the shoulders, saying, "I've got it! I know how to make them go away!"

Marth tried to shrink back into the wall, but it was useless with Ike that close, steel grip on his shoulders like a bear. Why did Ike always remind him of bears? "Y… yes?"

Ike saw Marth wince at the pressure on his shoulders, and quickly released him, embarrassed, and gave a cough before relating his wonderful idea. "Well, maybe we could just make them give up."

"… How?" Marth groaned inwardly at Ike's not-so-wonderful idea, which sported no details or embellishments, no plan of any sort.

"Well I've seen them bugging this other guy – Link – for ages, but once they saw how much he liked his girlfriend, they just kinda grumbled and left him alone." Ike said slowly, with the hint of a plan forming while he spoke. "Maybe-"

"You are about to suggest… that I… that we…" Marth flushed in horror. "… that we, instead of breaking up, make our position more obvious?"

"Yeah!" Ike grinned, estatic that Marth had caught onto his plan so quickly, so easily, that he hadn't even needed to explain. "I think it could work!"

Marth swallowed his fear, ignored the repressed memories of last night's dream, and nodded doubtfully. "It… could… but Ike, wouldn't that be… difficult?"

"Not really." Ike's grin faltered only slightly, and then he was smiling again, always cheerful. "I mean, no offense, but you really do look like a girl in that uniform."

Marth wondered to himself if Thursday had even heard his earlier plea, and decided that, no, Thursday was out to get him once again, and it was the vilest, most terrible day of the week. Unfortunately, this thought of the prince's greatly agitated Thursday, who had, after all, been working so hard to get Marth possible action (which it thought Marth wanted, based on its observations of his dreams) only to be insulted and shunned by the ungrateful whelp.

Well, Thursday was not a day to be trifled with, and it rolled up its sleeves and prepared to give Marth more to complain about, which would be even easier now that he knew what Marth was most dreading: the same thing Thursday had been working on getting for him all day.

Thus it was that, after a short and awkward pause, Ike picked up where he had left off, and began describing his plan. "So I was thinking, all we have to do is act like Link and Zelda, and we can get them to leave us alone."

"And what exactly do Link and Zelda do that drives away those types of girls?" Marth asked faintly, unaware of these two recently named persons and hoping that whatever they did wasn't too risqué.

"Well, they're mostly known for the… uh… weird pictures they… er… send around at Valentine's Day. No one can prove they're the ones in the pictures, of course, but… well… everyone knows." Ike actually blushed a little as he said this, and Marth got the idea that these so-called 'pictures' were not work-safe in the least. "But that's not what I was talking about."

Marth was tempted to point out that Ike had indeed been talking about it, but stayed silent in favor of finding out what Ike had in store for them. Them? Already he was thinking like that, like they were some sort of couple. It was terrifying.

"Anyway, mostly they just get caught in places, making out or doing who-knows-what in the bathrooms. I don't think we need to make that big of a statement, though, just enough to convince those three." Ike looked deep in thought, as if there was anything to think about, and then abruptly appeared to have another fantastic idea, which Marth couldn't help but think was another influence of wicked Thursday's.

It was, in fact, Thursday's doing. More of the fairy dust.

"You know, we'd better practice that stuff, especially since someone's gonna find us in this closet, so that would be a good time to pretend we were in here for a different reason, right?" Ike seemed to regain control of his mouth (and brain) after this short influence of fairy dust wore off, after which point he added, "And we do have a lot of time here."

"Practice…?" Marth shrank consciously into the wall, unnoticed by his friend, and wished he could be anywhere but there, despite the awkward and yet pleasant feeling in his stomach at the thought of Ike initiating something here, regardless of context or motive.

"Yeah, just like how you had to practice wearing those clothes before you came here, you know?" Ike smiled determinedly. "I'm sure it won't be too hard to get right."

Marth held back his quickly-growing panic, all the while asking himself if it was possible to hold back and not reveal his hidden – he thought – liking when the time came. Could he act like this was all some sort of weird chore, a sacrifice for the sake of a plan, when all he was thinking about was how Ike's lips would taste against his? He hoped so, because he knew no way out of this now that Ike had settled on the idea, naïve and optimistic as always.

Belatedly he replied, "R... right." And that decided the matter, unfortunately.

* * *


	7. Chapter 6

**Reviewers: **I'm so happy everyone still likes the story! As for LinkxZelda, I actually find it rather… weird. I don't support it or anything, it was just the first random boy/girl pairing out of Brawl I could throw together (I know there are other options, but some of the other characters already hold other positions in the story, unknown to all of you). You'll probably get to meet a couple more of them this chapter, come to think of it…

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Ike was almost unnaturally oblivious – it had to be unnatural, because Marth couldn't bear to contemplate the possibility that his friend really _was _that dense when it came to relationships. Had he really, in all seriousness, suggested that they 'practice' such things in a small closet, in order to eventually reach the goal of driving away the three girls? Did he not realize the implications of such intimate actions? Was he, perhaps, still thinking of Marth as Mariko, and was acting from his own motivation?

Marth pretended he was not trying to melt through the wall as his friend placed firm hands on his waist. He blinked and Ike had lifted him down from what had been his seat on the top of a large cratelike shelf while his eyes had closed. Now he had no place to hide, pressed against Ike in an entirely embarrassing – though not altogether unpleasant – way.

Gathering what little courage he still possessed, the prince steeled himself for the inevitable, telling himself, like a slap to the face, that he was _not _allowed to enjoy this. It hurt somehow to restrict himself from such a thing as feeling his emotions, but at this point he did not seem to have another choice. He could mask his true feelings and proceed in his friendship with Ike, or he could give up the act and leave the rest to fate. Fate had not been kind to him thus far in his life – even being born a prince had turned into some sort of problematic happenstance – so he decided, morosely, to abstain. He would not enjoy this. That was what he had to keep reminding himself.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Ike asked quietly, exercising understanding in a surprisingly observant way, causing Marth to immediately wonder how his friend could notice some things and not others. Perhaps he simply wasn't looking for anything else…?

"Your plan is… as good as we have." Marth struggled to sound calm, composing his face into mild uneasiness, which he thought was more-or-less an accurate depiction of what his expression would be if he – because he – was not going to enjoy this.

"You know," Ike pointed out something he thought would somehow make Marth feel better about the situation. "We're both guys, so it doesn't really count, right?"

"C-count?" Marth made a harshly worded note to punish himself later, as well as sentencing himself to a couple long weekend days of watching Marlon Brando films to remember how to act manly. Although of course he would not act quite _that _offensive…

"Yeah, I mean…" Ike paused, clearly embarrassed because he for once looked away from Marth, scratching the back of his head. "I've never actually… had a girlfriend. So I'm saying this kinda doesn't count. Uh… right?"

"I… I suppose so." Marth was only slightly startled by Ike's admission, having observed Ike's obvious awkwardness with girls for a while now. "I've never had one either." Admitting that made him want to hang his head, which he did unconsciously anyway.

A rather frightening silence ensued, and Marth was intensely jittery due to his body still being pressed against Ike's, with no end to this particular position in sight.

Then Ike made a… suggestion. "Should I turn off the light?"

Marth flushed darkly, feeling his face burn as, against his will, thoughts of Ike kissing him in pitch-black darkness swarmed his mind. "If you think it would be best…?"

"Well, it might make it easier, since… I don't think either of us really… well… anyway, I'll turn it off." Ike was blushing too, lightly, and somehow in a much more manly version of Marth's, which Marth supposed could not be helped.

Ike reached over and flicked off the light switch, and suddenly everything was much, much worse.

Without sight to occupy him, Marth was forced to acknowledge the newly dominant sense of touch. Every minute detail of where they touched was magnified, and when Ike's hand came back to his shoulder uncertainly, he jumped.

"Uh oh. I can't really… see you…" Ike said lamely, and gave a nervous laugh, which Marth echoed automatically.

His eyes widened, the action luckily rendered imperceptible by the dark, as he felt hands feeling for where he was, lightly skimming over his waist to his shoulders, where one halted and the other grazed his neck on its way to locating his face. He was unable to hold back the startled jerk as a thumb passed over his lower lip, once as if by accident before it returned, as if marking… a place…

He _felt _Ike lean in, somehow with the way the air changed, an almost unrecognizable shifting sound accompanying a shift in the formerly-empty space between them. The one hand tightened on his shoulder as the thumb caressing his lips persuaded him to let his mouth fall partially open, all thoughts of forgetting his feelings forgotten.

The next moment a warm mouth was on his, only for the briefest of moments before withdrawing and leaving his lips frigid from missed heat.

"How… was that?" Ike asked, sounding ever-so-slightly hoarse, as if he was losing his voice.

Marth was immensely grateful to the darkness for cloaking him, hiding his face, which must have sent a dozen different emotional messages in that moment, all of which were never to be received by Ike, who no doubt looked only a little awkward and shy, like usual.

He belatedly recalled Ike's question, and tried to quietly clear his throat and calm his quickly-beating heart before replying, "Fine. You have my… permission… to go on." He winced at how very callous he sounded, like this was some sort of mutually necessary symbiosis. But it was preferable to sounding like a desperate high school girl, which was exactly what he felt like.

The door opened.

Marth gasped.

Ike blinked, frozen in shock.

"Oh, my." An impossibly sensual voice purred, amused.

"M-Ms. Aran, there's a… a perfectly sensible explanation for-" Marth butchered the sentence, helplessly humiliated by the intruder, especially since it was Ms. Aran, the most intimidating female teacher on campus. She taught anatomy.

"Try me." She drawled, arms folded in a rather standoffish way. Her perfect, red lips curled up at the corners, giving her the appearance that she was hiding her malicious glee with a too-small smile.

"It's my fault!" Ike stepped in front of Marth protectively, immediately saying the first excuse that came to mind. "I was, er, taking advantage of her." He then glanced at Marth with a hint of real guilt. "I'm sorry, Mar… Mariko…"

"Is that all…?" Ms. Aran mused, more to herself than them, but shrugged in a way that was somehow very sexy.

"No, not exactly." Marth answered quietly, still blushing, but managed to formulate, at last, some semblance of the truth. "The fact of the matter is that we were placed in that closet by a group of girls, who then locked it from the outside."

Ms. Aran smirked, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Well, well, that matches the call we just received."

"Call?" Marth and Ike exchanged glances as they both echoed Ms. Aran.

"A girl called in and told us that there were two students locked in a closet somewhere on the second floor." Ms. Aran twirled a strand of her yellow-blonde ponytail around a finger distractedly. "It took us a while to find the right closet."

"It had to be one of them!" Ike exclaimed, oddly excited. "Did she say what her name was?"

"No. She probably didn't want to get pegged for it." Ms. Aran seemed to have gone back to her perpetual state of sexy boredom, now that the interesting bit was over with. "I'm guessing she's one of them, the girls who put you in there?"

"Very likely." Marth nodded with a frown, mind wandering as he wondered what reason the three had thought up for locking them in the closet to begin with. If they really believed him to be some sort of loose woman, why would they have given him such a useful opportunity to seduce Ike?

"Nothing more to do here, then." Ms. Aran hmm-ed and then abruptly fixed the two of them with a sexy, curious gaze. "Though I gotta warn you two – PDA isn't allowed here. But I'm sure you knew that."

Marth's face burned hotly as he choked out, "O-of course, Ms. Aran."

He heard Ike say something similar, but he didn't dare look over at him, not in his incredibly fragile state. He felt as if he would burst into flames if anyone so much as looked at him suspiciously.

"Go on home, then. I'm surprised your parents didn't call." With that said, and a casual wave, Ms. Aran turned and glided down the hall, yellow-blond ponytail swishing back and forth as she walked, accompanying the clicks of her stilettos.

The two of them both seemed to share the idea of waiting until Ms. Aran was out of sight before doing anything – moving, speaking, anything – lest they condemn themselves somehow.

At last, Marth turned to Ike carefully, and was about to suggest that they begin the walk to the train station when he was transfixed by Ike's eyes, which as usual showed exactly what he was thinking.

Curiosity. Not the frightening sort of seductive, dark curiosity that would have made Marth's breath catch. The simple, honest curiosity of Ike, who never bothered to hide his eyes and their broadcasts.

"We should head for the station," Marth said too-casually, breaking the control of their connected gazes.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Ike said with a small shake of his head, as if throwing off lingering feelings from their time in the cleaning closet, where it had been almost another world, just the two of the them.

Marth began to walk, and as Ike matched his pace to walk at his side, addressed his friend on what he hoped was not a sensitive subject. "Are your parents going to be upset?"

Ike blinked at him, as if surprised at the concept of someone being upset over his absence. "Well, I kinda live by myself most of the time. My dad's always somewhere on business, you know?"

Marth, of course, hadn't known. But for Ike's sake he only nodded, and tried not to let his sudden surge of sympathy shine through in his eyes. He had guessed it was something awkward – about Ike's family, that is – since his friend hadn't replied to Ms. Aran's comment about neither of their families calling the school.

Ike cut off further thought by asking sheepishly, "So your, uh, bodyguards, they didn't call either?"

Marth sighed, thinking fondly of the two bodyguards who seemed to think he could handle himself – not a bad assumption, normally – and hence did not get overly flustered when he did not arrive home on time. "They have great faith in me, so they do not usually bother worrying."

Suddenly, Marth's mind went from calls to cell phones, and then, as minds often do, flitted through several links to reach an important conclusion. Cell phones to 'why did we not use the cell phones to call for help?' to 'it was in the bag' to 'wasn't the bag outside the closet, by the vending machi-'

"Ike, we have forgotten our belongings over by the vending machines." Marth stated calmly, with a weary smile, and abruptly turned and made for the area they had just left.

"Wow, I didn't even notice…!" Ike stood there woodenly for a moment, and then turned to catch up to Marth, at which point he grinned. "You think we could go back in that closet and get some more practice?"

Marth abruptly choked on his own saliva, and coughed a few times, stopping in the middle of the hallway. When he looked back at Ike, trying very hard to remove his blush, he saw the naïve, purely joking expression that his friend wore, and was able to relax. For the most part.

"I think we had better get to the train station as soon as possible, in case there isn't another time slot for a couple hours." The prince answered, cold logic his best defense.

He proceeded towards where he could now see their possessions – his bag, which resembled a large purse, and Ike's backpack – with a firm grip on his thoughts, steering them away from all thoughts regarding the closet. Unfortunately, after they had shouldered their bags and were on their way once again, Ike apparently decided it was a subject they were supposed to discuss. As they exited the school side-by-side, he made his move, so to speak.

"Hey, Marth…" He began thoughtfully, and trailed off, clearly waiting for a nod.

Marth nodded tentatively. "Yes?"

"Would you – I mean, you would, uh…" Ike became slightly incoherent temporarily, before regaining the art of speech. "You would… tell me… if I ever made you uncomfortable. Right?" And he locked eyes with Marth as they walked, concern evident in those azure depths.

With ridiculously bad timing, Marth – having been dedicatedly looking back at Ike – walked into a telephone pole.

His vision came back a few moments later, and he saw that he had fallen backwards onto his butt from the force of the collision. His hand came up to hold his aching forehead and he winced, feeling the beginning of a bruise under the fringe of his hair.

He then noticed Ike's outstretched hand, and looked up to see the familiar face of his so-called savior, which was now wavering between worry and a sort of politely-held-back amusement.

"Thank you." Marth mumbled as he took the hand and was easily pulled to his feet. He jumped slightly as Ike's hands joined his in the occupation of brushing dirt from his clothes, although Ike kindly stopped after a few seconds, and let him do the skirt himself.

"That was my fault, I'm sorry." Ike apologized sincerely. "You okay?"

Marth's mouth opened to formulate some sort of positive reply, but all his thoughts halted when Ike reached out to brush wayward blue strands from his eyes, fingertips grazing his face and charging up his blush to smash-attack capacity.

Ike laughed quietly, a little awkwardly, as he noted, "Your hair's a mess, you know." And he gently removed the headband from the still-frozen Marth.

Marth then managed to nod dumbly, but it took him another few seconds to reach into his bag for a hairbrush. He dutifully ran it through his hair a few times until it felt all right, and stuffed the brush back into its proper place in the bag.

He reached out mutely for the headband Ike was still holding, but Ike seemed to ignore the gesture in favor and placing the headband himself, and then smiled at the 'after' picture he witnessed.

"Thanks." The prince said out of convention, and didn't know what else to do. Why was Ike touching him so much? Didn't he realize it wasn't helping?

When neither of them said anything for a while, Marth nervously turned and kept walking in the direction they had been going, with Ike beside him. They arrived at the train station exactly ten seconds before the train arrived – a stroke of luck that was very welcome after the rather unlucky day. Thursday.

Marth tried to forget Thursday, the closet, and Ike's somewhat odd behavior, instead boarding the train in a sort of hazy determination to get home. But Thursday was not done with the young prince yet. No, Thursday had been interrupted by Samus ruining the closet plan, so Thursday had to go on to Plan B: get Ike to Marth's house.

As they neared the stop before the one Marth got off on, Ike's cell phone rang, a sort of battle music, and he scavenged around in his backpack a moment until he retrieved it and answered its loud cries.

"Hello." He spoke politely into his phone. Marth listened while looking out the window so as not to appear too nosy.

"Yes?"

"Right, I had to stay late."

Marth knew that was a lie, but he decided not to comment.

"Oh, that's nice. So he's…"

He?

"Huh?"

Marth resisted the urge to glance at Ike to see what sort of puzzled expression he was no doubt displaying.

"… What? Wait, say that again…"

The prince twitched, beginning to lose his nerve but desperate not to show it.

"Are you serious!?"

Marth's eyes widened at the almost angry tone to Ike's voice, though he still gazed fixedly out the window, at the blurred suburbs.

"I can't believe – " By the sound of it, Ike managed to get back in control of his emotions, and then continued much more calmly. "Well, I guess. Just a second."

Marth risked a glance at him, and saw him muffle the phone with a hand as he looked straight into his eyes with a desperate and humiliated expression.

"Do you… have an extra room at your house?" He asked with a grimace, right as the train halted at Marth's stop.

Marth jumped up to exit the train as the 'ding' of opening doors sounded, and without a thought dragged Ike out of his seat and gestured awkwardly, as if he had lost his voice. Ike followed him off the train, and then they stood there at the train stop nervously, Ike perplexed because he hadn't gotten an answer, and Marth because he didn't have one.

"I'll call back." Ike said quickly into the phone, and shoved it into his backpack, eyes still on Marth, whose panic was slowly dwindling.

"Oh, sorry." Marth apologized, coming back to the world. "You said you… needed a room to stay in?"

"Pretty much." Ike winced. "I don't wanna impose on you or anything, though, I could just stay at a hotel or something."

"Are there hotels nearby?" Marth asked, curious, but mostly because he was concerned for Ike.

Ike looked very sheepish. "Not really."

"Well, I…" Marth swallowed and tried to curb the blush that threatened to envelop his cheeks. "I don't think we have an extra room, but… Why is it you can't go home, again?"

He hadn't meant it to sound so brusque, but Ike didn't seem to mind, replying exasperatedly, "My dad's still in Tokyo, and I guess he must have pulled off some big deal, because he had Eri – that's our maid – call me to tell me he's getting new flooring put in while he's gone."

"That _is _strange." Marth suddenly wondered if it was some plot of Thursday's, and unfortunately he was unable to hear Thursday cackling in response, for it was certainly its own doing.

"So… do you think I could stay at your house tonight?" Ike asked hesitantly, hopeful like the most pathetically adorable puppy dog.

"I suppose so," Marth conceded uncertainly. "We will figure something out when we get there."

Ike let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Marth, it means a lot."

Marth, hoping it really didn't mean a lot, only nodded and attempted a smile, which he wasn't sure he managed successfully.

About half an hour later, they had arrived at Marth's house, and Bodyguard #1 answered the door with an unusual cheerfulness. "Well, the young master decided to return home after all!"

"I was… delayed. At school." Marth supplied lamely, but stepped through the doorway nevertheless, adding, "Ike will be staying the night due to circumstances with his house's renovation. Do we have an extra mattress?"

Bodyguard #1 seemed to think for a moment, and then replied innocently, "I don't believe we do. Hmmmm…"

Meanwhile, Bodyguard #2 had heard of the guest, and at once began fixing dinner with renewed vigilance, pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I could just sleep on the floor, it's okay." Ike shrugged, as if he had slept on floors before in his life, and it made no difference to him.

Marth, on the other hand, was shocked by the thought. "Of course not! I would be a very impolite host to let you do such a thing."

"We will figure something out." Bodyguard #1 assured them, and they couldn't see the spark of mischief in his eyes, hidden by the shades he wore.

Bodyguard #2, sensing his partner's plot, came out of the kitchen as if on cue with a tray of cookies and iced cocoa. "Would you two care for some cocoa?"

While Ike and Marth were conveniently distracted by the refreshments – and each other, as their awkwardness still lingered – Bodyguard #1 subtly removed the extra mattress from the house and somehow managed to store it in a warehouse nearby, removing all traces of it ever having existed.

Thus it was that Bodyguard #1 came back into the kitchen area only a short time later, when Ike and Marth had just finished their cookies and iced cocoa, and announced that he had just returned from searching the house for sleeping amenities.

"I'm afraid we do not have an extra mattress, young master." He apologized, ignoring the small, almost hidden quirk of Bodyguard #2's lips at what was now the truth.

Marth took a last sip of his iced cocoa and daintily patted a napkin to his lips before answering, looking troubled. "All right. We shall have to make do. Ike, follow me."

He lead Ike to one of the storage closets, where he scrutinized their very meager store of surplus bedding. There were a few different blankets, but nothing fluffy or padded enough to soften the hardwood floor that monopolized the house. Feeling a sense of impending doom and an anxiousness in his stomach, Marth took only one item from the closet: a pillow.

"Well… this is somewhat problematic." The prince said hesitantly, attempting to avoid stating the obvious for as long as possible.

They reached his room, and Ike was momentarily distracted, having never been in the prince's room before. With a semi-silly smile on his face, he looked around without pretense, admiring the small room's dresser, mirror, adjoining bathroom – although the door leading into it was closed at present – and last but not least, the bed.

Now, Marth's bed was a good size. It could normally be considered fairly spacious for one person. But he was not confident of its ability to contain both himself and Ike without producing some sort of complication or at the very least causing him to turn red permanently from awkwardness.

All of this worried Marth a great deal, but, since they did not have any couches – sitting room, yes, couches, no – he knew, with a feeling of dread, where the day was headed. And he firmly believed that Thursday was to blame. Which, of course, it was.

Ike, having finished looking around, turned back and fixed him with his usual smile. "Your room's nice."

"Thank you." Marth replied politely, but personally did not like this room at all, not only because it paled in comparison to his royal chambers in Altea, but also because of its memories, its 'Mariko' memories, which almost, sometimes, seemed like they weren't even his own.

"So what are we gonna do?" Ike asked unconcernedly, as if he had not contemplated having to sleep in the same bed as his friend. Who was, in fact, male.

"Well," Marth held back a sigh as he gestured to his so-called 'queen-size' bed. "It seems that all we have is this."

"But isn't that your bed?" Ike wondered aloud, scratching his head in that somehow cute way of his.

Marth blushed, but tried to explain things in a serious manner nonetheless. "Yes, well… we have no couches and no extra mattresses, and I cannot let you sleep on the floor, therefore…"

"You don't have to do that, Marth!" Ike protested, misunderstanding. "I won't let you sacrifice yourself so I can sleep somewhere comfortable!"

Marth battled confusion as Ike had somehow managed to teleport himself right in front of him, as he usually did when he was righteously exclaiming something. "But Ike…"

"No! I won't let you." Ike cut him off with something akin to a no-nonsense tone. "We'll just share the bed. It's not like it's really small or anything."

This being Marth's original idea, he didn't protest, but also didn't bother informing Ike that this had been the plan from the beginning. He didn't care to hurt Ike's pride.

"All right." He complied wearily, and realized with a pang of embarrassment that he was still in his female clothes, and they had been home for something like a half hour. It was inexcusable. "Say, would you mind stepping out for a moment? I would like to… er… put on something more comfortable."

His wording hadn't been the greatest, as that last part was usually something of a flirtatious line entailing serious doings, but Ike only nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him politely.

Marth wasted no time in placing the extra pillow on his bed, then abandoning his schoolgirl outfit, and yanked off his socks and removed his hairband. A quick glance in the mirror reminded him of his make-up, so, lest he forget, he made his way into the adjoining bathroom posthaste, and scrubbed his face thoroughly to remove said make-up.

Still in his underthings, he padded back into his room and quickly picked out a pair of slacks and a white, button-down shirt. He buttoned it up nearly all the way, except for the last button at his throat, being very conservative-minded when it came to wearing the clothes of his gender. He shoved his uniform into the closet and was ready for non-action.

He opened the door to let Ike in, but wasn't expecting his friend to loom over him curiously, taking in his changed appearance. As Ike continued to loom rather intimidatingly close to him, the prince attempted to back away slightly, at which point Ike seemed to shake off something that had been obscuring his thoughts, and he proceeded to follow Marth back into the room.

"You know, it looks a lot better if you undo a couple more buttons." Ike suggested when the door had closed behind them. "It's pretty hot in here, too."

Marth belatedly noticed that the room _was _much warmer than it was normally – he was accustomed to the house's rampant air-conditioning – and too-casually undid two of the buttons, as Ike had recommended. It did feel a little better, excluding the nervous feeling that came with showing more skin.

"That's odd," He said, in order to draw attention away from the sliver of skin now exposed by betrayed buttons. "Usually the air-conditioning is quite active."

Ike thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Maybe something's wrong with it…?"

Marth contemplated this possibility with casual interest up until he realized that such an occurrence reeked of Thursday's involvement. In fact, this whole 'Ike-sleeps-over-at-Marth's-house-and-has-to-share-his-bed' matter was suspicious in the first place! It had to be Thursday!

Unfortunately, this conclusion came with much horror, because the young prince quickly understood that, if all this was Thursday's doing, Thursday would surely still be plotting, at this very moment, to bring about his doom. Which would be vaguely the equivalent of him ending up in compromising positions with Ike, regardless of context.

"So… what do you wanna do?" Ike asked with a touch of boredom, which he hid about as well as anything else he ever tried to hide. Which wasn't much.

"I don't know. What do you like to do, Ike?" Marth sat down on his bed, stomach fluttering expectantly with his recent conclusions.

Ike sat down on the bed beside Marth, which made his stomach lurch not because of the way the bed bounced lightly, but because Ike was _sitting on his bed_. Beside him. And the door to the room was closed. What could this lead to…? Ah, but Ike didn't like him, he liked Mariko. And Mariko was safely hung up in the closet, which sounded terribly morbid but was the truth.

Ike shrugged in response the earlier question, thinking for a while before he replied, "Any type of swordfighting, I guess."

This was a much better answer than Marth had been anticipating. "Swordfighting? I thought you were on the kendo team…?"

"I am, but it's not really my favorite. I like fencing too, you know, like medieval sword fights." Ike became, if possible, even more animated than usual as he started to discuss various swords and styles of swordplay.

At last, when Ike had talked for quite some time about the Western-style swordplay – as opposed to various Japanese types – Marth had time to speak. "We could spar sometime, if you would like."

Ike looked at him as if he had just been presented with a mouthwateringly-delicious cake, which he was instructed that he 'must eat'. "What? Really!? You mean you know swordfighting?"

Marth actually smiled without conscious effort, surprising even himself, as he answered. "The crown prince of Altea must be able to defend himself, they said. And in my country, swordplay is the basic form of battle-related instruction."

"Are you… no offense… good at it?" Ike asked hopefully, like a little kid who desperately wanted a bike.

Marth was silent for a moment, not wishing to boast, before he admitted, "I am considered quite skilled, yes."

Ike looked like he was ready to jump up and race Marth to the nearest wide-open space of land so that they could spar. "Whoa… that's… amazing!"

Marth flushed and fixed his gaze on the floor. "Well, for the years I was forced to study it, it would be amazing for me _not_ to have progressed to this level."

"Don't be so modest about it." Ike grinned. "I bet you were really good from the start. You seem like you would be."

"I do?" Marth thought this was surprising, since he didn't count himself as a particularly intimidating or warrior-like person.

"It's the way you move, I think." Ike thought out loud. "You're really graceful – so it makes sense that you would be good at that sort of thing."

Marth wasn't sure if he should be flattered by this – was not 'graceful' a compliment normally bestowed upon beautiful women? – but decided, with Ike's openly enthusiastic face, that he would accept it as a good thing.

They sat there for only a few more seconds before Ike spoke up once more, eagerly. "Do you think we could go spar?"

"Now?" Marth blinked, and then looked out the window to see dusk setting in among the treetops. "I'm afraid it's gotten late for being outside; the light is already waning."

"Oh, yeah, I didn't notice." Ike said, sounding disappointed but perking up quickly as usual, optimistically stating that they could always spar sometime else.

Marth got up to turn the light on in the room, and to close the window for fear of wayward insects. Then he sat back down on the bed, and the nervous feeling came back again, because he knew, since Ike's last plan had been foiled, that his friend now needed something else of interest to do. He wondered vaguely if Ike did his homework, but decided not to mention it in case it was a bad subject.

"What time is it?" Ike asked suddenly, and Marth was relieved that it had been that, and not another question of what they should do to occupy themselves, which was becoming more and more difficult to deflect.

Marth glanced at his alarm clock, which sat on the small side-table by his bed, and answered. "6:27."

"Hm." Ike said vaguely, and was apparently thinking of something else to add to that.

At this point, Marth himself was wondering what he could do to distract Ike from any possible suggestions of practice, but he wasn't coming up with much, since they had no television, and he normally spent the evening hours either doing homework, reading, or taking long, relaxing baths in the ofuro.

As it happened, Ike was strategically hit by a handful of fairy dust, which influenced him to consider options he hadn't even though of before. "Say, Marth…"

"Yes?" Marth blinked back at his friend, seeing the normal Ike-smile but also an overlying haze of curiosity. He wasn't sure that look meant good things.

"Are you bored?" Ike asked cautiously, an eyebrow raised.

Marth's inner guidance system warned him about that eyebrow, but ignored it. "I suppose. Why do you ask?" He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about this.

"Why don't we practice some more?"

_Practice some more_

_Practice some more_

_Some more_

_Some more_

_More _

_More_

_More… ore… ore… re…_

Magnified echoes filled Marth's mind after the suggestion, and he tried not to panic. Ike was actually serious about this? Did he really think it was just for the plan, or did he have external motives? Was he secretly an assassin from Altea, sent to dispose of the crown prince? Did _he_ really just consider that possibility!?

Ike nudged him gently. "Marth?"

Marth shook off his inner hysterics. "Well..."

"We don't _have_ to, if you wanna just leave it 'til we need to do it, that's okay by me." Ike blushed lightly, but he was apparently more immune to the plague than Marth, for the redness receded as abruptly as if it had never intruded onto his face.

But Marth was really more concerned with the matter at hand. "I… think it would be difficult… to improvise in such a situation."

"Yeah, I think so too." Ike sighed, a rare action for him, but immediately recovered. "I mean, that's the whole reason for the practice, to make it look, er, natural."

Marth rose from the bed, and went over to his closet filled with shame. Meaning that he himself was filled with shame, not the closet. Although the closet contained a few of his female outfits, so it could also be said to be filled with shame. But I digress…

He single-mindedly began sliding the hangers all to one side of the closet, which was relatively small, but long, in such a way that he was able to squish the clothes together and create a space about the size of the space in the janitor's closet.

Ike, who had gone over to him out of curiosity, for once understood without explanation. "Ah, good idea."

An awkwardness cloaked them for a few moments.

The door opened quietly, and the two of them froze, as if caught in the act of doing something blasphemous.

"Dinner is ready, your Highness." Bodyguard #1 informed them innocently, flashing blindingly white teeth. "And young master Ike, you are welcome as well."

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. The food, as always, was simple but delicious, at first glance the meal of a middle-class family, but once tasted became known as truly scrumptious. What appeared to be store-bought breaded chicken was in reality home-cooked with the secret recipe of the Altean royal family; the other dishes were likewise pleasantly deceptive. Even the tea was of utmost quality despite its plain appearance.

Ike complimented Bodyguard #2's cooking numerous times, and the man seemed gratified to be praised for once, being that Prince Marth had sampled all of his dishes at some point, and rarely found a need to express especial thanks – not to say he did not thank the chef, but it was a habitual thank-you, not a thank-you of particular significance.

The two bodyguards finished eating before the prince and his guest, and took care of the dishes as usual, leaving Marth to thank them as usual and make his way upstairs, trailed purposefully by Ike.

Marth offered an extra, unopened toothbrush to Ike, and the two of them shared sink space as they brushed their teeth after the satisfying meal. For some reason, this action made the prince feel much better about everything; this was possibly due to having a full stomach, which didn't seem to squirm as easily. And the fact that they were both so sated with food made the possibility of seduction-by-Thursday's-influence seem very far-fetched indeed. To Marth, that is. Ike, naturally, had not even had such thoughts.

And so it was that, at around 8:20 in the evening, Ike and Marth sat back down on the rather spacious bed, feeling rather sleepy, with nothing in particular to occupy themselves. And so it was that Thursday sighed and attempted to bide its time, knowing that it could not influence Ike when he was so very contented.

They ended up playing cards. Go Fish, to be exact. This lasted all of half an hour, after which the effect of dinner wore off, and Thursday was growling for new blood.

"Perhaps we ought to get some sleep…?" Marth suggested cautiously, hopeful that Ike was tired enough to go to bed early, saving him from the possible fate of seduction-by-unknowing-Ike-courtesy-of-Thursday. After all, tomorrow was Friday. And Friday had always been the best day of the week.

"Yeah, might as well." Ike stifled a yawn that had crept up on him. "Can I use the restroom to change?"

"You may." Marth conceded easily, reminded of his own choices for sleeping-wear. He opened the drawer to his pajamas and observed that he only had a few different pairs left, as the others – and much of his usual clothing – was in a basket in the laundry room. And the pairs he had left were much more fancy in comparison to his usual selection (such as the shorts and plain shirt). There was a silken long-sleeved button-down shirt and accompanying pants, or the heavy cotton pair of shirt and pants, or another like the first pair, only in a different color.

Marth's mouth twisted, but he took out the sky-blue silken pair with a shake of the head, and slid into the bottoms, listening intently for Ike in the adjoining restroom. Hurriedly he removed his shirt, stuffed the articles of clothing he had just discarded into a spare drawer, and seized the silken button-down shirt.

The sound of the door opening made him jump, glancing back at Ike in surprise. Ike, clothed in what looked like gym sweatpants and a plain tee-shirt, blinked at him, and he hurriedly turned around and slipped the shirt on, trying to do up the buttons as quickly as possible but fumbling with them in his panic.

"So what side of the bed do I get?" Ike asked amiably, not seeming to give much significance to seeing the prince half-unclothed.

Marth, having just finished doing the buttons, turned around and walked over to the bed with much hesitance, now that everything was said and done, and it was time to actually get into the bed and attempt sleep.

"Which side would you prefer?" Marth asked politely, keeping his eyes from straying to Ike and assessing the strange new clothes; not really that strange, but different from seeing him in his uniform.

Ike contemplated this question, and shrugged. "I dunno, which side do you usually sleep on?"

Marth, in another situation, might have laughed at the silliness of the question. "I normally sleep in the middle of the bed. Is that not what you do, Ike?"

"Well yeah, but I wasn't sure if you… I mean… I dunno." Ike looked sheepish. "Which side do you want?"

"You won Go Fish, so you may choose for yourself." Marth diverted the question, sticking the decision to Ike with a tone of finality.

"Hmm…" Ike considered the bed thoughtfully. "Well, I sometimes roll off my bed, so you can take the side with the wall, and I'll be on the side that I can roll off of. That way I won't roll onto you or anything."

Marth thought this to be very odd logic indeed, but he decided, tired as he was, not to dispute anything. "All right."

He awkwardly crawled onto the bed and sat on his side, before recalling a detail of great importance. "Oh, I nearly forgot! Please turn off the light – it's over there, next to the – yes, that."

Ike had easily located the switch, and he flicked it to shower the room in darkness, at which point he shuffled around to find the bed, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. "Ouch!"

That, judging by the way the bed shuddered, must have been Ike colliding with some part of the bed's frame. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ike said, quietly because the darkness made it seem like he should be quiet.

Another shift of the bed accompanied by the rustling of sheets signaled Ike's attempt to get into the bed. Marth became very friendly with the wall as he attempted to give Ike as much space as possible, praying that they would not come into any accidental physical contact.

The rustling and slight bouncing of the mattress stopped, and it sounded like Ike had settled into his side of the bed. Marth very, very carefully turned so that he was lying on his side, facing the wall, to aid him in forgetting about Ike, though he could hear his breathing, sense his presence, like a deer frozen before a mountain lion, unsure if it had been seen.

"Hey, Marth?" The voice came out of the darkness, and though it was quiet it pierced the silence and consequently unnerved the prince.

"Yes?" Marth's blood froze as he replied to that fateful question, and he _knew _what would come next. Thursday's influence, he told himself. That was all it was. He could fight it off, like exorcising a demon, or-

"Thanks." Ike spoke awkwardly to the air, and the prince's paranoia promptly vaporized. "For all this."

"I don't mind." Marth answered, almost mumbling, and winced as he heard the echo of his own voice after he had spoken, that almost feminine meekness.

And they slept. He slept beside Ike, his savior, his protector, as the nightmare Ike ravished him in his dreams once again, frigid air wrapped around his then fragile form, trembling at the cold, cold smile of an enemy satisfied.

* * *


	8. Chapter 7

**Reviewers: **I'm so very sorry I had to abandon this for such a length of time... Life, as they say, gets in the way. I recently finished an original novel that I had been writing since around the time I started this fic, so now I have a whole lot more opportunity to return to (more?) fun things like this!

This one's a bit of a longer chapter. Thanks for being so kind and patient!

**Shameless Plug: **I have just started a daily blog where I review yaoi manga. If you're interested, go check out my website on my profile!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

It wasn't as bad as Marth had feared. It was worse.

He woke the next morning to entangled limbs and Ike more-or-less on top of him, or at least half so, and the resulting discomfort of being nearly crushed into the bed was nothing compared to the sheer mortification he felt at how close they were, how many places they were... _touching_... Paired with his highly inappropriate dreams the night before, this was more than he could handle, and he immediately made plans to escape the situation.

Naturally, waking Ike seemed like the easiest way to go about things, but due to the fact that they were in such an awkward position, Marth would have rather been knocked across the room with a baseball bat than alert his friend to their current dilemma. No, rather than risking that, he would have to extricate himself without waking him, something that did not particularly appeal to his finer dignities but also seemed his best option at present.

He wiggled. He squirmed. He inched. He cursed Thursday so many times that he could almost hear Thursday cursing back (and this was saying something, as it was Friday). He wriggled some more, and then he managed to get their legs separated. Another few careful moves, like playing Pick Up Stix, and he was out. Out and proud!

As he was Marth, Crown Prince of Altea, he did not do any sort of victory dance, merely a satisfied nod before he went on to gather his clothing, make-up, and his pile of cross-dressing supplies. He gave a little scowl as he went into the restroom, but right before he entered the doorway he turned back. Ike was still sleeping soundly, and for some reason that made him smile despite himself, and for a moment he wondered if this was what it was like to - no, too sappy.

His eye caught on the alarm clock and saw that he still had an adequate amount of time to prepare for school. He accepted the reminder and stopped whatever frivolous thoughts he may or may not have been having, intent on today's preparations. Today was Friday, after all. Fridays were always, always good days.

* * *

Breakfast was different with Ike there beside him, cheerfully wolfing down scrambled eggs and sausage as if he had never seen such things before. Marth daintily finished his pear slices, telling himself that at least he had table manners, but really he just didn't want to think of himself as feminine for caring about such things. It was a difficult balance, cross-dressing as a girl and yet defying all of his girlish traits secretly to keep his pride as a man satisfied. The bodyguards didn't seem to think Marth actually had a source of manly pride, but it always lurked just beneath the surface, determined to beat some sense into his more active fluffy bunny girly side.

"Do you think we'll run into those girls again?" Ike said conversationally even as he attempted to stuff an entire piece of toast into his mouth. This made him seem especially intelligent.

Marth shrugged his shoulders, a trick he had picked up in the first few days of school. It wasn't particularly suited for his female persona, but he couldn't really care less at the moment, which of course made sense with the fact that he was shrugging in the first place. Ike just gave him a helpless sort of half-smile at the gesture and returned to consuming his breakfast with gusto.

"I certainly hope not," Marth added belatedly, having given it more thought in the meantime. If they did, he had no plans on how to improvise a situation that went along with their current plans of scaring off the girls with exhibitions of the romantic kind. And improvisation did not well suit him despite his daily practice of it.

"Yeah," Ike agreed hastily, and surprisingly did not have food in his mouth when he looked back at Marth and admitted quietly, "I think I still need to get used to the plan."

Marth felt a little stab of heartbreak but didn't mention it aloud.

* * *

Marth miraculously managed to avoid the three girls all day, darting to the restroom when the bell for lunch rang. He hung his head shamefully for the full half-hour as he hid in the stall. A stall in the girls' restroom, at that. How had the Crown Prince of Altea sunk so low? He was even picking up on the commoners' mannerisms, if yesterday's habitual shrug was of any indication.

After lunch ended, he knew the rest of the day would be relatively safe, and he heaved a sigh of relief. The girl in front of him heard and turned around curiously, but didn't ask. Apparently, lower-tier girls like Marth were expected to have unrequited infatuations that caused such sighs. He knew this from various girls' magazines that the bodyguards brought for him to peruse, insisting that all girls read such things, and so must he. Tawdry stuff, those.

The final bell rang and he wasted little time in making his near-to-graceless escape from the classroom. How all three girls had ended up in most of his classes was beyond him, but he was going to continue his pattern and blame Thursday, who tended to be responsible for most of his suffering whether or not it was on its particular day of sovereignty. Friday coughed good-naturedly and hid a smile, always in an amiable mood and especially warm towards late afternoon when schools let out for the weekend.

As Marth was finally relaxing, walking towards the doors that would take him to the path to the train station, he was frozen by a half-shriek, half-yell that could only belong to the ringleader herself. Determined not to seem fazed and also, by now, ready to dunk one or all of them in a fountain, he turned with a steely expression to face his nemesis.

"What do you want?" He folded his arms and cocked his head to the side in a way he had seen the more tomboyish girls expressing their toughness.

Apparently it worked, because Girl #1 faltered for just a moment before she spoke. "I... you didn't listen to us! We saw you come to school with Ike! What kinda stuff are you guys doing, anyway!?"

"Yeah, what kinda stuff, huh?" Girl #2 echoed in a similarly outraged tone of voice.

Girl #3 decided that trying to shush either of them was out of the question, and gave a little sigh of defeat, watching the whole spectacle from Girl #1's left with only a slight morbid curiosity. She clearly would rather have been at home, doing whatever those with labels like Girl #3 tended to do in their spare time. Perhaps eat a hamburger while watching an action movie, or walk the dog to the convenience store and buy some ice-cream. Or perhaps he was underestimating her, and she had extraordinary talents he had no knowledge of; perhaps she had taken Marth's advice and was now a master knitter.

Disregarding Girl #3 entirely, Marth's situation was still irritating and a tiny bit volatile. One wrong move and these vicious little Amazons would engage in audio warfare, screaming in his ears and throwing their hissy fits with no restraint for the ears of innocent passerby. This had to be dealt with strategically and quickly before it got out of hand.

"Ike and I live one stop apart, so we started walking together from the train station." It wasn't exactly a lie; if Ike was currently living at his own house, the two of them would indeed have begun to walk together due to being on the train at the same time in the morning. However, the real reason was closer to the fact that Ike was staying at Marth's house, and therefore they rode the train together in the morning. Which Marth knew he could never admit without being called various inappropriate names.

It was then, as he stood there waiting for Girl #1's judgment - since she obviously made all of the important group decisions - that he noticed just what the differences between him and them were. He was low tier, with his almost knee-length skirt, plain shirt and tie, not to mention his headbands, which despite his affinity didn't seem to be in style nowadays. These girls, on the other hand, were middle tier and reaching for the top, sporting skirts rolled up until they reached only mid-thigh. Their short-sleeved shirts were also rolled up to expose carefully tanned bits of shoulder, their hair was tied in various pigtails or ponytails by cutesy little strawberry-decorated scrunchies, hair-clips, and so much more. Now that it was after school, they had even applied copious amounts of make-up and were wearing girly jewelry at their necks and wrists.

Their nails were painted.

Marth sensed his position and was abruptly uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. Yes, he could take all of them in a fight, but he wasn't supposed to reveal his physical advantages under any circumstance short of a truly dangerous situation. And he didn't know how to fight girls... like a girl. That left him the dubious option of talking things out, which had not yet actually worked for him.

Girl #1 finished scrutinizing Marth's explanation and got a nasty look on her face, like she had bitten into a spoiled apple. She opened her lip-gloss-caked mouth and prepared to deliver a sonic final smash.

"Hey, Marth - oh." Ike approached and the three girls instantly forgot themselves and beamed for a couple seconds.

Marth exchanged a quiet greeting to Ike but started to fidget when Girl #1's face contorted once again in anger, signaling her growing fury and ability to cause deafness in those yards away.

"What's going on?" Ike asked, and for once he looked entirely serious, gently guiding Marth to stand partially behind him, blocked from the girls by a massive bear-shoulder. The girls seemed thrown off by this new, protective side of Ike, having expected him to cheerfully ask how they were like he tended to do with everyone.

"Sh-she..." Girl #1 started indignantly, but the words didn't bubble up so easily as they usually did, and she was left fish-mouthed and gaping.

"She," Ike finished for her, eyes hardened, "Is my girlfriend."

All three girls simultaneously fake-swooned and ultimately ended up on the floor out of bad form, waiting for someone to ask what was wrong. No one did, as most people had, in the time they were arguing, made it out the doors and towards home. Ike turned to Marth and offered his hand. Marth shook it instinctively and Ike laughed.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Ma... Mariko." He grimaced for a moment at his slip-up and glanced at the downed girls to see if they had gotten suspicious. They hadn't.

Marth, meanwhile, realized his mistake and let Ike's hand take hold of his, their fingers interlocking and palms resting together in a way that somehow felt more significant than it looked.

* * *

Marth didn't notice much of what Ike said as they walked to the train station holding hands. The sense of touch blocked out that of sound, illogically in his opinion, and made it very difficult to do more than smile and nod in response to whatever it was his friend was saying. Ike had his kendo bag with him, Marth noted as they walked. It had taken him a good five minutes to make that observation.

Ike suddenly squeezed his hand, and he nearly jumped. The kendo captain was looking down at him with a sympathetic expression that, at a moment like this, made him grateful his legs were still holding up and hadn't turned to jelly. Yet.

"Are you all right?" Ike asked quietly, bringing his friend back into the world of sound.

Marth nodded quickly and, for good measure, spoke. "I am sorry, I... was distracted."

"Did I distract you?" The thought apparently made Ike grin like a kid presented with his favorite candy. The hand on his squeezed again, but this time was more lightly, sort of a reminder more than anything.

Marth staunchly managed to keep his blush at a level indiscernible to the naked eye. "No, I was only thinking."

Ike accepted this was only a tinge of childish disappointment, and they boarded the train on time for once. They were sitting side-by-side for the first time, usually deciding by an unspoken agreement to sit across from each other to better maintain eye contact while speaking. This was far different, especially with hands linked, bringing them close out of necessity as well as appearance's sake.

Marth felt oddly comfortable despite how the contact made him feel like he had broken his combo in upwards of thirty places. It was a sort of ill-concealed nervousness that mixed with the warmth of Ike himself, adding up to be one of the most confusing sensations he had ever been fortunate enough to experience. His dreams flashed through his mind, determined to make him drastically more uncomfortable, and he fidgeted as he pushed away the memories.

Ike leaned close to him, and it only occurred as he spoke that his intention had only been to whisper to his friend. "Where do you think we should get caught? I think it might have to be tomorrow, after what I said to those girls."

"Where?" Marth echoed blankly, mind working furiously to process the implications and present him with some sort of logical response. "Ah... I don't know."

"Well," Ike scratched his head sheepishly with his free hand, and admitted, "I couldn't really think of anything, either. Maybe just in the hallway after school?"

"That does not sound very secretive," Marth told him gently, and a rogue thought, unbidden, flitted through his head like a messenger of Friday, Emperor of the Days of the Week. "Unless it was the back hallway, perhaps. The one that doesn't seem in use at the moment."

Ike, too, seemed like he had caught Friday's messenger, as he lit up spontaneously. "That's a good idea! Let's try it tomorrow."

"Yes," Marth agreed. "Tomorrow."

But inwardly he was a mess of so many different feelings he could have painted an emotional roller-coaster with them.

* * *

When they returned to the house, Bodyguard #1 ushered them in graciously and informed them that dinner would be in a few hours. They then retreated to Marth's room, where the air conditioning was once again working effectively. He awkwardly asked Ike to leave as he changed into his warm-weather male clothes, another button-down shirt and formal dark pants. When Ike saw this, he at once set about trying to remedy the situation.

Clad in his gym tee-shirt and some athletic shorts, Ike was eying Marth's outfit with endearing confusion. "Aren't you hot in those?"

Marth flushed slightly, especially when Ike added that he should put on something 'more comfortable'. "Well, I don't have much else. Most of my wardrobe is currently Mariko's." If Ike thought it odd that Marth referred to his female self as a separate person, he did not show it on his face. And if Ike didn't show something on his face, chances were he wasn't thinking it, either.

"You don't even have any tee-shirts?" Ike asked, a bit incredulous judging by the widening of his deep blue eyes. "Or any shorts?"

"No, this -" Marth gestured to the clothes he was currently wearing, "- is all I have. In any case, it is hardly necessary, as I have to become Mariko when I leave the house."

"Ah, right." Ike said sheepishly, having forgotten Marth's dilemma - how? - again. "So... what are we going to do?"

They migrated into Marth's room once more, where Ike awkwardly took a seat on the bed, causing Marth to have second thoughts about doing the same. But after Ike's expectant look, he nevertheless went over to the bed and sat down beside his friend. His nervousness came back immediately as he tried not to stare at Ike. The way his biceps were outlined vaguely beneath his tee-shirt, and - what was he thinking!?

Ike interrupted his thoughts at just the wrong time with, "Uh..." Which happened to be a very good interrupting statement.

Marth examined his mind for anything Ike might have said before about his hobbies in a desperate ploy to find something to talk about. "You said once that you enjoy sword-fighting."

Ike seized the bait despite the lack of a question. "That's right! Could we spar today?"

Marth was caught off guard by the suggestion and his mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. Ike smiled at his inability to form words and patted him on the shoulder in a way that spoke of manly friendship. It helped, but it also made Marth newly aware of just how close they were.

"I suppose so," He answered, tentative to the idea of facing Ike in any sort of combat. "I will have to change into Mariko before we leave, though."

Ike flushed slightly, something Marth hadn't seen him do since admitting his crush on Mariko. "I'll just, uh, leave you to that." And he left the room casually but with a peculiar look on his face. Ah, his crush on Mariko. That explained it.

* * *

They left the house, Marth now dressed fully as Mariko in a flowy violet skirt that ended just below his knees, a tasteful white blouse with puffy sleeves, and cute violet sneakers that matched the skirt. The bodyguards had made sure he was provided with said sneakers, in various different colors to match all of his feminine attire. It was an oddly thoughtful gesture; normally the bodyguards did their jobs excellently, but to consider his clothing choices was something beyond that.

As they were about to step outside the front door, Ike suddenly seized Marth's arm, causing him to turn back to see what was the matter. Ike then made a series of incomprehensible gestures and rushed back upstairs. Marth waited in utter confusion, even as his friend reappeared at his side.

"Here," Ike said, slightly out of breath from running up and down the stairs. "You forgot your..." Marth's eyes followed Ike's to the object he was holding with great care - his violet headband.

"Ike, you - " His surprise was cut off as Ike delicately eased the headband into place on Mariko's head. How had he known which one to bring? And he had noticed its absence, something that even Marth himself had surpassed.

"There." Ike beamed, satisfied with the complete picture before him. Their gazes met, rendering Marth's surprise into embarrassment and then something different.

"That was very thoughtful," Marth managed to keep his voice steady despite how Ike seemed to be leaning in slightly, intentions looking very ambiguous. "Ike?"

"What? Huh?" Ike suddenly seemed to right himself, drawing back from his friend with no small amount of confusion that quickly turned into his classic sheepishness. "Oh, sorry. Shall we go?"

Some strange urge made Marth attempt a smile that Ike didn't see.

* * *

They had decided beforehand to spar with the more traditional practice swords that Marth had been tutored with. They were much different from the kendo swords in Ike's bag, but the kendo captain himself hadn't seemed intimidated by the switch when it was brought up. In fact, he seemed, if anything, more excited to be using traditionally Western swords.

Now, having reached the tennis courts near Marth's house, they prepared themselves for the match, if it could be counted as that. Marth was nervous that he might have to spare Ike his full range of skill, and Ike inwardly felt the exact same way. Each had an added anxiety that came with the idea of battling a friend; would he be able to strike at a familiar face, one that so often smiled with him? It was a fluffy thought, to be sure, but it still held weight at an emotional level.

"You ready?" Ike asked casually, though Marth could see his eyes were worried.

Marth did his best to give his friend an assuring smile. "Of course. And you?"

Ike only nodded.

They both sprang forward simultaneously and a clash rang out with the meeting of steel. Marth parried and jumped back before immediately attempting a jab that Ike blocked easily. Ike slashed wildly and his intimidation technique proved effective. Marth was forced to move away, panting a little already due to being out of practice since his move from Altea and his tutor.

"You're good," Ike said in surprise, which might have been insulting except for its tone of wide-eyed wonder, which told him his friend was truly impressed with him.

They leapt back into battle the next moment, steel screeching against steel, and Marth exerted his full strength against Ike's guard, but to no avail. He was going to have to utilize his quickness and strategy if he wanted to defeat his friend. Pure force would have no effect. This was reinforced when the Ike parried his next offensive attack and launched a series of his own. They were slower than Marth's strikes but infinitely more dangerous in the momentum behind them. Ike reminded him of a bear once again, swinging that sword with almost reckless strength.

The next few minutes were comprised of a series of patterns in which Marth began to analyze just how Ike liked to attack and where the openings in his offensive strikes were. After a while, he held some confidence in the fact that Ike's heaviest strike, a vertical half-moon slice, had the longest down-time after its execution. That was when he would be able to catch him off guard.

He lured in Ike in a way that he had established to tempt the kendo captain into said attack, and he soon saw the signature flex in the muscular biceps that meant the disastrous strength was about to be unleashed. Sure enough, the next moment was the decisive one, where Marth side-stepped the strike to feel the harsh slicing of the wind so close to the sword's path. In a move too fast to be countered by Ike's somewhat slower sword, Marth had already rested the tip of his sword on the side of Ike's neck.

"This time it's my victory, isn't it?" He said, feeling like he owed Ike some sort of apology.

Completely contrary to his expectations, his friend dropped his sword and immediately opened his arms to him. The enthusiastic embrace startled Marth, especially after the adrenaline-filled duel, and he was aware of his heart beating faster than it should, his still half-breathless state, and Ike sweaty and panting against him. It was as dangerous as it sounded, a much more significant risk than the actual sparring time had been.

"Ah, we should get back to the house," Marth suggested timidly, and Ike eased off of him, still grinning.

"Sure!" His friend agreed without pause, and added with great zeal, "Wow, you really are amazing, Marth!"

And Marth didn't even think to correct him this time, knowing that right now he was Marth in his friend's mind, and not the artificial disguise he had created. The fact that Ike hadn't felt any awkwardness from hugging him, even in the flowing skirt and blouse he wore, confirmed this. Ike wasn't looking at him as Mariko any longer, and he hoped that wouldn't cause any problems with their performance tomorrow. Or with their supposed 'practicing', whenever that would take place.

Friday, he hoped, would protect them.

* * *

Dinner was an uncomplicated affair, which Marth was inwardly very grateful for. The bodyguards had collaborated tonight, and the result was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The home-made Altea delicacies of meat dumplings in an exotic dark sauce were mouth-watering and soon disappeared completely from the large plate at the center of the table. The accompanying salad was even spectacular enough to match it, sporting walnuts and bits of sugared cherries and black forest ham diced into submission.

They excused themselves after the satisfying meal and retreated upstairs, where Marth shooed Ike out of the room with another attempt at a smile. After he had changed, into the button-down silk pajama shirt and matching pants that were his customary sleeping-wear, they switched places and he left Ike to change into his own comfortable pajamas. As he waited outside his room, Marth wondered with no small amount of tension whether Ike would bring up the necessity of practicing kissing in anticipation of tomorrow's plan.

The door opened, revealing Ike once again in his gym pants and a cotton tee-shirt, hesitant grin on his face. Neither had much to say, and it happened that before Marth even got back into his room they spotted Bodyguard #2 coming up the stairs.

"Young master, dessert is ready. And Master Ike, you are also welcome as usual." And with that said, Bodyguard #2 excused himself and went back downstairs as his two charges absorbed the valuable information.

"Wow, let's go!" Ike's grin widened and he took hold of Marth's arm lightly as if to drag him to the dessert bodily.

Marth froze at the contact, his stomach doing an odd flip with the feeling of Ike's hand over the silky sleeve. Ike's expression changed to confusion as they stood there wordlessly, and he withdrew his hand after a very long moment had passed. They both pretended not to have noticed whatever had just happened and went downstairs in search of dessert.

* * *

In spite of the heavenly chocolate mousse cake that Bodyguard #1 had proudly unveiled, neither of them had been able to fully appreciate it due to the distraction that came from both the 'moment' earlier and from the recognition that, upon reentering Marth's room, they would be facing the unavoidable practice that occupied their minds so completely. It wasn't every day that Marth knew, in the back of his mind, that he might be kissing his only friend in the next few minutes, and it was a premonition that caused a lot of distress to his young mind.

They absently thanked the bodyguards and made their way upstairs. Marth's heartbeats began to speed up regardless of the fact that nothing had yet happened, and the most ridiculous thoughts began to surface in the young prince's mind, such as, 'Should we brush our teeth first, or would it taste better with the chocolate mousse lingering as it is?' He had to focus intensely to rid himself of the foreboding feeling, and when they entered his room again, he closed the door with a strange sensation swimming down his spine. It was fear but it wasn't.

"I'll, uh, be brushing my teeth and stuff," Ike said eloquently, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Marth stood by, fidgeting, and was slightly glad to see that Ike had at least decided that question for him. He went and brushed his teeth after his friend finished, and when he went back into the room he saw Ike sitting on the bed staring off at the wall in an uncharacteristic way for the usually dense kendo captain.

"Oh, hey." Ike sat up a little straighter and Marth suddenly felt very aware of his body, aware of the silky pajamas he was wearing, and extremely conscious of the fact that his friend was sitting on the bed as if expecting him to... to join him. For something. The way this affected him was bordering on laughable.

Marth just nodded awkwardly and sat down, heart beating like the apocalypse was well on its way. He did not want to be the one to bring up the topic of the dreaded practice.

"So, uh..." Ike trailed off and avoided Marth's gaze sheepishly. "You think we should, you know?"

"I suppose," Marth murmured. "If you'd like." He hadn't meant it to sound like that, as if Ike was the one asking this of him, and he colored lightly in embarrassment.

Ike rose. He unhurriedly made his way to Marth, glancing at the bedroom door in trepidation. Marth used the door as an excuse to flee, hastily checking that it was fully closed, and, after a moment's thought, locking it. The sound of the lock clicking into place could have echoed what with the tension in the room. He might have shuddered as he stood at the door, too ashamed to turn.

Hands rested on his shoulders suddenly, and Marth jumped a little, feeling the change in the air that meant Ike was standing at his back. His larger hands were placed there in what was possibly an encouraging fashion, and - the thumbs stroked his shoulder blades and he lost his train of thought and bit down hard on his bottom lip in an effort to not say anything stupid.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Ike said quietly, comfortingly. "And anyway, we don't have to. Not if you're afrai-"

"I am not afraid," Marth retorted, managing to barely keep the edge from his voice. Ironically, his fear made him contentious, and right now it was telling him to fight the source of his fear to the last drop of blood. He paid it no heed, instead trying to calm himself with Ike's help. As thumbs continued to stoke his shoulders, and Marth tried to relax with little success. After another few moments the movement stopped, and the hands turned him to face his fears. And Ike.

Ike was smiling at him encouragingly, and the hands were still lightly resting on his shoulders. "You know, you can tell me to stop if you want. Whenever." And the sheepish look came over his face momentarily.

Marth wanted to say something to the effect of 'let's get this over with', but he had no idea how to translate that into the polite but friendly speech he normally used with Ike, so he contented himself with nodding. Ike seemed to accept this well enough, and the two of them stood there thinking the same exact thought for the next few silent moments.

"Should I turn off the lights?" Ike asked finally, and Marth only nodded once more.

The light switch was just behind Marth, enabling Ike to do the worst thing possible and turn out said lights and then leave them still standing there, right against the door but close enough that they might have simply started the practice right there instead of moving. But Marth panicked with the idea of being backed up against the door, and he awkwardly moved past Ike and farther into the room, near the center where there was nothing that could be used to trap him. He heard and saw Ike follow in the semi-darkness.

And then Ike was standing there in front of him, the slim lines of moonlight filtering in from the blinds that weren't fully closed blanketing him in a way that had no right to be so heart-stopping in its effects. Standing there in the white cotton shirt and gym shorts, Ike was somehow rendered mysterious by the faint light, even his expression seeming deeper, a sort of hesitance that tugged at Marth's heartstrings as he stood there motionlessly except for nervously folding and unfolding his arms, continually made more anxious by the way his silk pajama sleeves brushed against the shirt-front, that almost slippery, dirty feeling of silkiness.

Ike stepped forward, close enough that Marth had no doubts any longer, and his voice came as if disembodied. "Marth..."

"Y-yes?" He winced at the softness of his own voice, the meekness.

Ike didn't seem to mind, as he took Marth's hands in his and, after a pause for thought, placed them on his own shoulders. "Are you really okay with this?"

As Ike removed his hands and left Marth's there where they tried not to absorb the feeling of the cotton and the muscled shoulders underneath, there was a moment where the prince felt abruptly scared to death about what they were about to do. He was afraid of what it would mean, of the effort he would be forced to make in concealing just how he felt about Ike, and so much more.

Ike's hands grasped his waist lightly, and Marth's intake of breath was so humiliating he felt he had to at least answer his friend's question in repentance. "It is fine."

Ike might have smiled in reply. All that Marth knew right then was that his friend was leaning in slowly and in a few moments they would be - he couldn't think on it directly. Ike drew closer and closer in his vision until all he saw was lips, and then it happened.

Warm lips pressed to his chastely, but the resulting feeling was anything but. Heat shot through him inexplicably at the light contact. The next moment was a hundredfold worse when Ike's mouth lingered on his to shift slightly and captured his again, and he thought he could have heard his own gasp if it hadn't been abruptly swallowed by the other mouth blocking it. Warmth spread across his face even as Ike drew back.

And then the lips were on his again, tentatively pressing to his and then retreating before claiming him again from a different angle, again and again, each time the contact lasting longer than the one before it. He had long since closed his eyes, and now he found his hands had drifted from Ike's shoulders to a well-sculpted chest, feeling everything far too well even with the tee-shirt in the way. He had no opportunity to guide his hands back to their proper places, however.

The next moment found Ike kissing him more deeply, mouth pressing against his insistently, and Marth's fear shot through him like a bolt of electricity, feeling the change in Ike that put him instantly on guard. He clung to the warm chest as those lips moved against his, dizzying him even while a tongue pushed its way in, parting his lips and slipping into his mouth where it did even more damage. His eyes squeezed shut tightly and the wetness moved against his own inside his mouth, tantalizing for some reason he couldn't explain. Ike's mouth pressed even more firmly to his, and he realized lately that Ike's hands had come to cup his face, allowing for the deeper contact that was now playing itself out.

* * *

**End of Chapter**

_Here's some bonus content... this isn't part of the actual story, just a mistake of mine where Ike went a little too far... Enjoy._**  
**

He gasped into the kiss as their bodies came closer and brushed together with a spark of something. Ike seemed to slowly lose himself in the sensations, and Marth feared he would too, but all thoughts were driven from his mind as Ike's hands on his face tilted abruptly and the tongue withdrew only to reenter from a different angle, this time stroking over his own tongue in a way that made him moan softly into the kiss. Shame swept through him even as the wretched tongue slid over his, causing the heat inside him to intensify and travel. Beyond the realms of possibility, he was... aroused.

As Ike continued to kiss him until he could hardly remember where he was, strong hands moved from cupping his face to undoing the first button on his silk pajama shirt. He didn't think enough to be able to protest, so when Ike's mouth left his lips only to alight on his neck he was grossly unprepared.

"Mmm... nggh..." He tried to suppress a moan as a hot mouth licked down his neck, then stopped to suck at the place just at the base of his neck and then at his collarbone. "Ah! Ike -"


End file.
